


Double Trouble: Stilinski Style

by twerkinshield



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Note: yes I know the mid season finale has Derek as a beta, Twin Fic, Twins, also the twins play matchmaker with their dad, and Scott is the co-alpha, and they cause shenanigans, because both Papa Stilinski and Coach Finstock are hot pieces of ass, but my fic is still going with the plot that Derek is the alpha, in which Stiles has a twin named Genim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2017-12-05 08:32:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twerkinshield/pseuds/twerkinshield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has a twin named Genim. After their mother died he moved to live with their aunt so their dad wouldn’t be overwhelmed with raising two rambunctious little boys on his own. Scott, having grown up with the both of them, knows about all the shit they get up to because of their combined smarts. Of course no one expects Genim to suddenly return to spend the summer catching up with Stiles. In which shenanigans and pranks ensue and for once everyone but Scott is confused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing except my overacting imagination. Which is apparently fascinated with the idea of Stiles being part of a matching set. Also I had some help with the pranks they do. Contains Genim and Stiles playing matchmaker to Papa Stilinski and Coach Finstock as per Sarah’s headcanon. Also I apologize for the corny title.  
> Enjoy!

Stiles goes to Derek early one morning to beg off pack sparring practice in lieu of a family emergency. Derek, seeing how Stiles is being genuine, decides to be lenient for once and sends him off with a loving threat to smash his phone if he’s late for the next pack meeting. Stiles flashes him a toothy grin and gives him a quick hug before running off to his jeep. Derek stands completely still from the shock of such a rare display of physical affection from Stiles, but he smiles at the retreating jeep nonetheless.

Stiles quickly swings by Scott’s house to pick him up and, while breaking more than a few traffic laws, then they head to the train station together.  Stiles ends up pacing anxiously beside the platform while Scott checks his phone for the millionth time to see if he has a text from Allison. Scott’s just starting a game of Tetris on his phone when he hears a wild screech and all of a sudden there’s a pair of arms wrapped around his and Stiles’ necks like a vice.

“STEELIES!”

“GUMMY!”

Gummy, formally known as Genim, is in fact Stiles’ twin brother. His younger twin brother, but only by six minutes, which has always been a never-ending cause for glee for Stiles. They’re nearly indistinguishable in appearance, from the dark and wildly untamable hair to the moles and to their unique amber eyes. The only discernable difference is that Stiles has ADD while his brother does not, making Genim the relatively calm one. The different undercurrents of energy flowing through each of the boys was the only way their dad could tell them apart, and Genim was still a convincing enough actor to be able to mimic all of Stiles’ little quirks.

Their nicknames came into being when, at their mother’s behest, they were given such outlandish names that they could not pronounce them as children. And thus, “Steelies” and “Gummy” were born. Of course they never once forgot about Scott, seeing as how the three of them were the three amigos while they were little, and so they gifted Scott with a nickname all for himself.

“AND SCOOT’S HERE TOO! C’mere you dork!” and then Genim proceeds to cling to Scott like a human octopus. “I hear you’re very ladylike now!”

Scott, being his ever-witty self, manages a confused puppy face in response.

“You know? You have a time of the month now? Just like your apparently too-good-for-you girlfriend? You’re such a schmuck how’d you get a gorgeous girl like that!?! I cannot even with you”

“Wait… Stiles you _told_ him about us?”

“Well yeah, where do you think my extra research comes from?”

“Dude… Derek is going to freaking murder you”

“Naaaaah, Sourwolf loves my effervescent personality too much to ever do that”

 “Yeah because Steelies is such a stellar person”, says Genim, cackling maniacally.

“Shut up Gummy”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now it is worthwhile to note that Genim hasn’t spent any great length of time in Beacon Hills since he moved away as a child. So not a lot of people in town even know of his existence let alone what he looks and acts like. It is also worthwhile to note that none of the pack knows about him either.

True to his word about being on time for the next pack meeting, on Saturday morning Stiles rousts Genim out of bed at the ass crack of dawn by blasting Call Me Maybe right in his ear and giving Genim a big sloppy wet kiss on his cheek. Needless to say, an impromptu wrestling match to settle the score delays breakfast. Their father walks in on Genim holding Stiles in a headlock while Stiles does his best to drool on as much of Genim as he can reach. Lamenting the weirdness of his progeny the Sheriff smacks them both upside the head with a rolled up newspaper and then steps back while they untangle themselves and scramble their way downstairs to the kitchen. Breakfast has always been a loud and messy affair in the Stilinski household, and having another teenager in the house doubles the crazy. But at least the boys can both cook. The Sheriff decides to let them both off the hook for making a real breakfast with _real_ bacon and _real_ sugar, not Splenda, in his coffee. Stiles kicks up only a minimal fuss about the whole ordeal but promptly shuts up when Genim decides to shove a piece of marmalade-covered toast into Stiles’ mouth.

The Sheriff loves his kids, truly he does, but once the kitchen is scrubbed to within an inch of its life he tosses the boys out of the house for some peace and quiet. They pile into the jeep and make their way over to Scott’s house, but instead of going up to ring the doorbell like normal people they just sit on top of the jeep and keep up a steady stream of crazy.

“SCOOT PLEASE COME OUT TO PLAY WITH US!”

“SCOOT OH MY GOD YOUR CURTAINS ARE SOOOOOO FABULOUS!”

“WOW SCOOT YOUR MOM IS SO GORGEOUS BOW CHIKA BOW WOW!”

“EW GUMMY THAT’S GROSS!”

“WHAT!? SHE’S HOT!”

“SCOOT GET OUT HERE BEFORE GUMMY STEALS YOUR MOM AWAY ON A ROMANTIC ADVENTURE AND HE BECOMES YOUR STEP-DAD!”  
“EW OK NOW _THAT’S_ GROSS STEELIES!”

Scott finally makes his disgruntled appearance by opening his window, bedhead and PJs and all and screaming out, “JESUS CHRIST YOU GUYS CAN YOU KEEP IT THE FUCK DOWN!?! I’LL BE DOWN IN TWO GODDAMN MINUTES!” and then slams his window shut.

Scott makes eventually makes his way down to them and Melissa waves goodbye to the three of them before closing the front door.

“Hey Stiles, can we swing by Allison’s before going to Derek’s? She doesn’t have the car today so she needs a ride from us”

Scott of course looks up just in time to see Stiles turn to Genim with a seemingly calm face. Genim meets his gaze and then their faces twist into the most unholy grins to ever grace their presence.  Scott feels like he missed some crucial piece of information in the exchange as they both turn back to look at him in unison. Scott gives them a weak smile and shrinks back into his seat to get as far from them as possible.

The jeep pulls up into the Argent’s driveway and its occupants all tumble out as gracefully as possible, which is about as graceful as a giraffe trying to roller-skate on ice. Scott makes it to the front door first because of werewolfy reasons and gives a strained smile when Chris Argent opens the door.

“Hi Mr. Argent sir, I’m just here to pick up Allison and then I can be out of your way-“

“Hi Chris! How _are_ you? God it feels like it’s been _forever_ since we last saw each other!” Stiles pushes Scott away in favor of getting up in Chris’ face. “Wow and here I thought only the local wildlife were having a tough time lately! Dude you look _so_ old!”

Before Chris can form a reply Genim runs up and jumps on Stiles’ back to get a good look at the situation.

“Wait so this is Scott’s girlfriend’s dad? Dude and isn’t this the guy with the Walmart of guns in the garage?”

“Yeah! Oh my god the guns he has look so awesome!” Stiles’ face lights up at the mention of guns. “Don’t even get me started on the sniper rifles!”

“They have _sniper_ rifles!?” A look of pure bliss crosses Genim’s face. “Oh my god I would _love_ to get my hands on one of those bad boys”

“I know right? But I mean dad said we can’t touch ever again after what happened last time…”

Chris’ eyes are comically wide as he silently watches the exchange. He opens his mouth to try to make sense of the situation but the twins just barrel on without a care.

“Hey that wasn’t our fault!” Genim climbs down off of Stiles’ back, affronted. “Mom always said we should learn how to defend ourselves so it’s not like we were breaking the rules or anything!”

“Dude, most mothers don’t give their six year old sons a Barrett M95 sniper rifle to practice with.”

“… Point taken Steelies. But _you_ were the one who shot that-“

“OK BOYS I THINK THAT’S ENOUGH TALK OF GUNS.” Chris looks vaguely frantic and more than a little terrified at the idea of _these_ two boys having access to sniper rifles. “Stiles may I ask why you have a doppelganger?”

Stiles grins maniacally, “Oh! This is my twin brother Genim, he’s the younger one.”

Genim smacks Stiles upside the head, “Only by six freaking minutes!”

“Yeah but I’m still the older one you loser.”

“Yes ok boys that’s… nice, just, don’t shoot any weapons near my daughter please”, Chris pleads, rubbing a hand down his face.

Stiles and Genim briefly make eye contact with each other and then proceed to grin at Chris. Chris squirms uncomfortably and quickly shuffles off when Allison comes down the stairs to greet them. Of course when Allison sees Stiles and Genim, who now has an arm around Stiles’ shoulders, she stops in her tracks and does a double take in surprise. She blinks once. Twice. She opens her mouth to speak but no words come out.

“Allison, this is Genim, Stiles’ younger twin brother”, Scott clarifies, shooting wary looks at the twins.

“Hi! Wow you’re gorgeous! Scott is a total schmuck so mostly I’m just wondering what you see in a dork like him and I mean he’s also kinda like a special puppy, well actually I guess he’s _literally_ a puppy. Ok that’s weird, did I just make this weird? Sorry I tend to do that, hi I’m Genim also known as Gummy but you can call me either because I’ll respond to both.” Genim gives her a winning smile and a short bow.

Allison grins in response and simply asks “Why Gummy?”

Genim huffs and says “Ahh the joys of having a first name you can’t pronounce and a twin who loves tormenting you” while Stiles cackles behind him. “But apparently we’re meeting some big up-and-coming alpha who growls and broods a lot so let’s get this show on the road!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Genim meets the Hales and pack, Derek's brain gets broken, and there are twizzlers to be had.

While Stiles and Genim fight over who gets to choose the music Scott holds Allison’s door open for her to get in. Once they’re all on their way Allison vetoes all their shitty musical preferences in favour of switching to a Classic 50’s station so they can have a neutral drive there. Although this is wishful thinking on Allison’s part because not five minutes later Stiles and Genim are arguing over whether peanut butter is superior to nuttella on their morning toast. They’re still debating the merits of sweet versus salty in the morning and whether nuttella counts as chocolate or not when they pull up to the renovated Hale house. And of course because luck is always on their side Peter is the one to open the door. Of _course_ Peter is the first Hale that Genim is introduced to.

“Stiles, it’s _so_ good to see you again, my offer to give you the bite still stands you know” Peter all but purrs.

Of course what Peter doesn’t know is that the twin he’s talking to is most definitely _not_ Stiles.

 “Wow talk about creepy uncle syndrome. Hey Stiles,” Genim inclines his head towards his brother, while warily keeping his gaze fixed on Peter.  “Is this the pedo-creeper who bit Scott and killed Laura and is basically a zombie werewolf now?”

Stiles takes a moment to enjoy the epic look of confusion on Peter’s face before he climbs out of the driver’s side and moves to lean over the hood of the jeep so he can watch the encounter unfold.

“I think I may have missed something here.” says Peter slowly, narrowing his eyes.  

“Yeah don’t worry, most people don’t usually know that I’m part of a matching set”, Stiles cocks his head and grins. “The better half I might add.”

“Hey fuck you Steelies”

“Blow me Gummy”

Peter’s eyes dart between the twins and simply shakes his head.

“Ok Thing 1 and Thing 2 let’s get a move on, our fearless alpha grows impatient”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The motley group of misfits makes their way into the house and Stiles immediately makes a beeline for the kitchen while Peter takes Scott and Allison to look at the newest weapons that Lydia has designed for them, effectively leaving Genim on his own.  Genim decides to take the chance to explore and get a good look around the elusive Hale house. Genim pads around the office taking stock of the pristine cherry wood desk, the fine glass ornaments, and the wide spacious windows. He takes stock of what books are stacked on the desk and catalogues them away in his mind for future recall. He slowly makes his way through to the office to the adjacent sitting room to see a man with dark hair, scruff, and a dirty tank top sprawled unmoving on his back across the longest couch.  Genim takes note of the prone yet strategically defensive position, the sculpted biceps, and the long legs of Mr. Scruffy and decides that this must be Derek. Genim’s eyes widen as he realizes all the potential his looks give him in this situation and he can feel his heartbeat pick up with the anticipation of promised shenanigans. Derek will have no idea what hit him.

“Handler Stilinski reporting for duty sir!” Genim salutes and proceeds to throw Derek a sleazy smile.

“Stiles cut that shit out. I know who you are”, Derek’s eyebrows draw down in his typical broody werewolf fashion.

“Well how is everything chez Hale kennel today?” upon seeing Derek’s displeased scrunchy face, Genim grins. “I mean I see this is obviously a five star establishment, it’s a good thing your puppies get to be spoiled like this I mean come on where are their diamond crusted water bowls am I right?”

 “Stiles I swear to Christ if you don’t stop with the fucking dog jokes-“

“Dude! I didn’t even do anything!”

Derek swings his head around to look the newcomer and his expression changes from stormy to wildly confused in 0.6 seconds flat. Stiles enters the room with a handful of twizzlers and an extra one sitting behind his right ear and heads over to stand next to Genim.  Derek’s eyes widen and his eyebrows retreat as far up to his hairline as possible while his mouth opens and shuts without a peep coming out. The alpha’s gaze shifts quickly between the twins as he tries to work out why there are apparently two Stiles’ in one room, and then flushes a deep crimson when his mind takes a brief but imaginative detour into the gutter.

“What? But I- how did you? WHAT!?” Derek splutters, flailing as he tries to sit up.

Stiles catalogues Derek’s reactions for future reference, and then proceeds to turn to look contemplatively at his twin. Genim meets his gaze and then calmly reaches up to grab the twizzler behind Stiles’ ear. Silence reigns for a moment while the twins eat twizzlers and stare each other down and until Stiles simply can’t resist.

“Dude I think you broke Derek”

“Hey it’s totally not my fault he didn’t ask which Stilinski I am. I mean I _did_ only say ‘Handler Stilinski’” Genim shrugs and proceeds to chew on his twizzler.

“Ok well.” Stiles turns to Derek and smiles serenely. “Derek. This is my younger twin Genim, also known as Gummy. He responds to both. He likes pixie sticks and peppermint tea and the Die Hard movies. We both love guns. He moved away from Beacon Hills after our mom died and visits a few times a year just so we don’t go forgetting his fuck-ugly face.”

“Excuse you cumslut we have the _same_ face”

“Excuse _you_ no we fucking don’t you fuck truck”

It is at this point that Erica, Isaac, and Boyd walk into the room only to see what appears to be Stiles sizing up another Stiles while Derek flails and makes confused walrus noises from his place on the couch. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Genim and Stiles tell their life story, Genim keeps pack peace, and the twins out-sass Peter.

Of course Peter is the first one to get his ducks in a row so he takes advantage of his previous Stilinski encounter and uses it to his current benefit.

“Oh well I suppose I could extend the same offer to your younger brother Stiles”, Peter’s eyes rake suggestively down Genim’s profile. “He’d make an _excellent_ addition to our little ragtag pack”.

Before Derek can snarl at Peter to shut up Stiles takes a violent intake of breath, marches up into Peter’s space, and squares his shoulders determinedly.

“If you _ever_ touch my brother,” Stiles says serenely, eyes narrowing dangerously, “I’ll blow your intestines out with my dad’s rifle and feed them to you through a straw”.

Everyone in the room freezes, waiting to see what Derek will do in response to the threat. However Derek is far too busy trying to calm the sudden and completely unexpected (okay maybe it was a _little_ expected) tightness in his jeans to be able to effectively manage the situation.  Genim’s eyes dart rapidly between Stiles and Peter and seeing the potential for the situation to blow up, proceeds to make a carefully calculated plan that balances the delicate pack politics with werewolf instincts. And the carefully calculated plan is essentially to place himself in Scott’s protection by leaping on his back and screeching like a banshee. Needless to say everyone is easily distracted and Scott ends up with a ululating teenager on his back while he blinks around the room like a startled deer.

Between the screams of “SAVE ME SCOOT” from Genim and the “GODDAMMIT STILES CONTROL YOUR TWIN” from various pack members Peter is quickly shuffled to the backburner to sulk in relative peace.

Once everyone is seated and snacks have been passed out the twins decide to enlighten everyone else to their situation. Needless to say the looks of immense surprise and slight horror are endlessly amusing to both Stiles and Genim.

“Well I’ll give everyone the sparksnotes version of the life of the Stilinski twins,” begins Genim. “So obviously everyone knows that our mom died of cancer when we were little. Basically dad couldn’t keep up with having both of us living in the same house and so I went to live with our aunt and uncle up in Fresno while dad tried to get his ducks in order. But then when we turned twelve Stiles was diagnosed with ADD and I was too busy with afterschool activities and stuff,” Genim pauses to take a generous sip of his soda before continuing. “So we all ended up staying where we’d been living but we decided that I’d travel back to Beacon Hills to spend every summer with dad and Stiles. And so far it’s worked out pretty well for everyone. Except for the whole werewolf business… that was a teensy little bit of a shock. Although I’m still surprised that no one but Scott noticed me after all these years, I mean it’s not like I’ve been quiet or anything!”

“Yeah but you’re the stealthy sneaky one,” says Stiles, re-entering the room with more snacks. “I’m the one who bullshits and flails his way through everything so everyone obviously notices me.”

Derek, having picked up his jaw from the floor at this point, actually manages to pull himself together long enough to mull over the new information and then narrow his eyes to dangerous slits at Stiles. “So exactly how long has he known about everything werewolf related?” asks Derek quietly.

Stiles’ sensing the imminent threat freezes with a handful of chips at his mouth and tenses up, expecting to be thrown against the nearest wall. Scott shifts subtly in Derek’s direction and growls menacingly at the implied threat. Genim just rolls his eyes at everyone and nips all the growling business in the bud by calmly stating “Since the very beginning O’growly one. He’s my twin, of _course_ he’s gonna tell me everything! Do you seriously think he does all that research for you guys on his own? I mean really, we work better as a team and quite frankly it looks like you guys could use another researcher on the team.”

Derek blinks slowly, unused to being out-maneuvered so easily, and slowly relaxes. Derek looks over at Stiles and is startled to realize that Stiles’ heartbeat is still fluttering wildly in his chest from the fear of attack. He has a moment of guilt at scaring the kid so badly but covers it up by grabbing a handful of chips from the bowl on the table.

Lydia artfully flips her hair over her shoulder and purses her lips at Genim.

“And what exactly do you plan on doing here in Beacon Hills this summer? I mean we have enough trouble with one Stilinski already so I’m quite worried that we’ll have a riot on our hands with the two of you running around town.”

Jackson slips an arm around her waist and smirks at the both of them.

Genim looks over at Stiles and Stiles nods serenely back at him before they turn in sync to look at Lydia. Stiles is the first to open his mouth.

“Oh don’t worry my strawberry blonde queen-“

“We’ll only cause as much trouble-“

“As trouble sees fit to cause us”

Lydia pauses in examining her nails and narrows her eyes menacingly at the twins while Jackson slowly backs away from their pleasant matching smiles.

“Although,” Peter drawls, “neither of you answered her question…”

“And what question was that O’pedo-wolf?” grins Genim.

“What exactly do you two terrors plan to do this summer?”

There is a collective shiver of pack terror as the two boys slowly grin at each other and say nothing. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Stilinski clan goes grocery shopping, the twins give the Sheriff The Talk, and there is awkward flirting to be had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I never know what to use for Sheriff's first name so I figured "John" was the simplest name to remember. I'm probably gonna keep referring to them by their jobs unless they're speaking directly to each other. So you'll mostly be seeing Sheriff and Coach but John and Bobby in actual dialogue... sorry if that's confusing!

Quite contrary to popular belief the twins end up spending the first two weeks of summer vacation lying low and flying relatively under the radar. They go to the arcade to play DDR together, they go to the diner across the street for after-dinner sundaes, and they take the jeep to go to the beach together to look for seashells and pretty bits of glass to make necklaces for all of the pack ladies. They make sure the sheriff eats healthy meals and doesn’t drink too much, and they spend their evenings trying to fix the ancient BBQ that’s been rusting in the backyard for years. Even though they end up adding too much propane and the BBQ blows up but it’s the thought that counts. Especially considering the sheriff ends up laughing at the boys while they frantically try to work the fire extinguisher to put out the flames. Of course the appetites of two growing teenage boys do tend to clear through a fridge full of food fairly quickly so on the Friday of the second week after Genim arrives they all pile into the jeep to head to the grocery store to restock on supplies. With some customary friendly banter thrown in of course.

“But come _on_ dad!” Stiles whines petulantly, turning the steering wheel carefully. “It’s been forever! Don’t you think it’s time to get back on the proverbial horse for a nice long ride?”

The Sheriff rolls his eyes “I’m just gonna ignore that badly disguised innuendo and move on to the fact that my experience in the dating game is in the negatives and let’s not forget the fact that no one would ever want to date the _sheriff_ of all people.”

Genim sighs dramatically and twists around to look back at their dad sulking in the backseat. “Oh _please_ any person would be lucky to date you dad!”

“Exactly! Wait…” Stiles gives the Sheriff a toothy grin in the rearview mirror, “Do we need to have The Talk with you? Because you know we’ll love you no matter what bits your significant other has. I mean some people want the V and some people want the D so it’s all good!”

The Sheriff glares at his cackling sons and rubs his face tiredly.

“You both get this from your mother.”

Luckily they all arrive at the supermarket in one piece and with tempers in check and the twins proceed to pile quickly out of the car and race towards the shopping cart area. The Sheriff follows along sedately while fishing around his pockets for the quarter he knows he’ll need to settle the rights of who gets to push the cart today. Once Genim comes out victorious as the cart driver Stiles pulls out the grocery list and leads them through the necessities. They slowly but steadily (“No dad you can’t have the full fat bacon”) make their way through the store (“No Stiles you most certainly can NOT have the lucky charms”) with only a few minor issues (“But Stiles got to choose the soda last time! Now it’s my turn!”). The three Stilinskis are just making their way to the fruits and veggies section when Genim accidentally crashing the cart into none other than Coach Finstock interrupts them. Of course Coach has no idea who Genim is. The twins are absolutely shameless in continually using this fact to their advantage.

“BILINSKI! How many times have I told ya to keep your eyes open and wary!” says Coach loudly. “This ain’t the girl scouts where you just have to look pretty to get stuff done! Constant vigilance!”

“Well sir I honestly have no freaking clue who you even are and who this Bilinski person is so yeah you might wanna get checked into casa-de-crazy soon.” Genim slowly moves behind the cart, eyes wide.

Coach blinks and then finally notices the other two standing beside Genim. He blinks again at the fact that he’s apparently seeing double.

“Hey Coach! Lookin’ good! Have you been working out?” says Stiles gleefully.

“Sorry Bobby,” the Sheriff rubs his neck sheepishly. “Not many people realize that my son comes as part of a matching set. Although it’s probably a good thing they don’t live in the same city anymore, god only knows what kind of havoc they’d wreak if they did.”

“I honestly thought I was seein’ double there for a second,” says Coach dazedly.

“It’s an honest mistake,” The Sheriff’s face flushes and he shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot. “I mean even I have trouble telling them apart most days.”

The twins’ eyes widen comically and then the Sheriff’s stomach drops at their unholy grins in his direction. It’s amazing how his two teenage sons can so easily make him feel like a fly caught in a spider’s web. He laments ever teaching them interrogative detective techniques as children and then maybe they wouldn’t be able to read him like an open book. Stiles looks over at Genim and then opens his mouth and the Sheriff knows what comes out won’t be good.

“Say dad, since when are you and- “

“Coach _Bobby_ \- ”

“Friendly enough to be-“

“On a first name basis?”

The Sheriff, quickly realizing his mistake, splutters from embarrassment while Coach looks on in vague amusement. Eager to derail the current train of the conversation the Sheriff looks down to Coach’s shopping basket and tries to distract his sons from the _real_ reason he goes to every single one of the school’s lacrosse games. He should really know better than to trust his on-the-spot plans though.

“Shopping for the basics Bobby?” asks the Sheriff, his face beet red.

“Well I guess you could say I’m planning for future adventures… of a sort,” Coach coughs and scratches his neck, avoiding direct eye contact.

“Woah Coach! You stud!” Stiles exclaims, far louder than necessary. “Is that the super ultra sized pack of those new heating condoms? You having a party later or something?”

“Well he’s certainly looks like he’s planning a _big_ party, aren’t’cha _Big Boy_?” coos Genim slyly, eyeing Coach’s basket with barely disguised mirth.

Coach’s eyes widen and he turns scarlet. The Sheriff, deciding he’s had enough of his progeny trying to send him to an early grave via embarrassment induced heart attack, rolls up the supermarket flyer and smacks them both upside the head like misbehaving puppies.

“Bobby I am _so_ sorry my sons have absolutely no sense of propriety and their shamelessness know no bounds and I just-“

“Hey John it’s no worry, really!” The Coach has never looked more genuinely flustered in Stiles’ opinion. “Mostly I’m just weirded out by how in sync they are.”

“Oh god, tell me about it,” sighs the Sheriff dramatically. “My wife could tell them apart no problem, but to this day I still can’t tell them apart unless they wear nametags or something.”

Their pride having recovered from being whacked like puppies, the twins rally to the cause once more, this time with a more concentrated effort.

“Well since neither of you can successfully-“

“Or regularly-“

“Tell us apart then maybe-“

“You should totally come over for dinner on Sunday-“

“So you can learn how-“

“To tell us apart and also-“

“To get to know each other better!”

Having finished their joint speech the twins look up enthusiastically at the adults present to wait for their response. Coach looks like someone just clubbed him over the head with a two-by-four and the Sheriff looks close to keeling over from embarrassment.

“Well,” begins the Sheriff. “Now that our barbeque is fixed we’re planning to have steaks and grilled veggies? If that’s alright with you?”

“Well!” Coach is far quicker at picking himself up than their father is. “You should’ve just said steaks from the beginning! I am sold!”

“Really?!” The Sheriff smiles blindingly. “Great! Let me give you my cellphone number so I can text you our address later!”

“Yes! Let’s do that!”

While Sheriff and Coach Finstock exchange numbers the twins fight over what the proper consistency of what a tomato should be and whether or not the purple heirloom tomatoes are mutant creations designed to take over the human race. Normal stuff for the Stilinski twins.

After exchanging numbers, Coach Finstock makes a quick getaway to presumably escape any more weirdness from the Stilinski clan. The Sheriff turns around and levels a glare at his sons, which becomes completely ineffective when they both proceed to smile ecstatically at him.

“See dad!” exclaims Genim. “We _told_ you that you still have game!”

“Exactly!” Stiles agrees. “Although I have to admit it’s gonna be a bit weird to have Coach over for family dinners… maybe he’ll help us with making the rocket that’s in the shed!”

“Oh my god do you think he would?”

“ _Excuse me but what goddamn rocket are you boys talking about?_ ”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the twins cause shenanigans of the good and bad kind, learning is fun, and Isaac makes friends.

Saturday morning comes smoothly and without incident for the Sheriff. At least until his sons decide to channel their inner antichrist by experimenting with the best ways to make their own homemade flamethrowers. After giving them a thorough scolding and confiscating the (admittedly well-made) flamethrowers he kicks them out of the house and tells them to not cause any trouble and be back in time for dinner. The twins give him matching smirks because they know it’s really code for “I-haven’t-been-on-a-date-in-forever-and-I’d-like-to-freak-out-in-peace”.  Regardless, they smile and promise to smile for their mugshots.

First, they try to call Scott to see if he wants to go romping in the woods with them. In response, they get a garbled semi-coherent text about how Scott is with Allison and how they’re studying. Which of course means they’re having stealthy sexy times in Allison’s car. After leaving a long, loud, and very inappropriate message for Scott on his voicemail they go back to the drawing board for fun ideas.

They end up driving to the mall to see if anything interesting pops up. And “interesting” turns out to be Lydia shopping while Jackson carries her bags like a carthorse. Not wanting to be roped into servant duty, they take numerous photos for possible blackmail material to better protect against Jackson in the future. While walking back to the jeep they spot Erica and Boyd at one of the ice cream trucks out on a date and looking completely happy for once. Stiles, wanting to make their date even better, sends Erica one of the many photos of Jackson on servant duty for her viewing pleasure. The twins enjoy first the look of confusion at receiving a picture file from Stiles, and then the absolute glee at the contents of said file. Erica leans over the table to show Boyd and the pictures actually managed to get a chuckle out of the normally calm boy.

Piling into the jeep they decide to go get some food at MacDonald’s to refuel for more shenanigans. While they’re waiting in line to order, Genim notices Coach Finstock get in line a few people behind them. Obviously not noticing the twins, Coach remains blissfully oblivious of how close to chaos he is. Genim gently nudges Stiles and they grin at each other.

When they get their orders they quickly make their way back to the jeep, trying to remain unseen by Coach. Their efforts are worthwhile however when they’re treated to the sight of Coach’s supreme confusion at having his meal already paid for upon arriving at the till. The cherry on the top of their cake is the note with the expertly forged signature of the Sheriff that is given to him as an explanation of this seemingly random act of kindness. The twins share a pair of binoculars in the jeep’s front seats so they can see the Coach’s reaction more closely. They then get to see him turn bright red and get flustered at the server girl who smiles back at him charmingly. Happy smiles split their faces as they watch Coach carry his meal tray to a seat by the window and carefully unfold the note to smile gently at it. Satisfied with their good work, they tuck into their burgers and curly fries with gusto.

After lunch they decide to burn off energy by going to the skate park with their long-forgotten skateboards. However just before they turn into the parking lot they spot two men wearing nondescript black clothing who are too-casually walking by the arena and looking around. Genim takes some quick pictures of the men with Stiles’ phone and sends them to Derek asking if he’s noticed any extra hunters being recruited by the Argent’s lately. When no reply is forthcoming they abandon the skate park idea and head over to the library instead.

The library turns out to be a good choice, for when the boys arrive it’s nearly empty and blissfully quiet in the back study areas due to the groups of children quietly being read to in the fantasy section. They head to the computers and each log in at a separate desk and then Genim glances over at Stiles and frowns.

“So boy who runs with wolves, what exactly are we looking for?”

“I honestly have no idea, I mean the hunters have been more of a problem lately than anything supernatural so it’s not like we need to look up any lore or anything…” Stiles trails off distractedly.

“Well what about the Bestiary?”

“What about it?”

Genim’s face scrunches up, “Well we know most of our werewolf info from that book right? So what other kinds of lore would there be?”

Stiles shakes his head in the negative. “Nah I’ve already exhausted all the fantasy and myth books in this library. Short of ordering a bunch of ones from Amazon we’ve got nothing new. And unless you’re giving me money to pay for all that shipping and handling I ain’t buying any new books dude.”

Genim perks up, “Well what about real wolves?”

“What? You mean like in encyclopedia’s and stuff?” Stiles asks.

“Yeah! I mean you said a lot of the werewolfy behaviour is similar to actual wolves right? So what kind of other instincts do wolves even have?” Genim squirms excitedly, and starts frantically typing into the Google search bar. “We could totally make a chart and cross reference what behaviours are similar between the species!”

“Oh my god! And we could ask Scott or Derek if it’s true and totally do our own observations!” Exclaims Stiles.

Both boys are shushed and violently glared at by the old librarian lady at the reception desk. Shrinking away from her gaze they shrug apologetically and turn quietly towards the computers. The twins are just writing down facts about hunting techniques when a voice sounds from behind them.

“You know we don’t actually go out and hunt for bunny burgers right?” Inquires Isaac sarcastically.

Stiles falls backwards off his chair in surprise and Genim chokes on nothing in fear. Isaac smiles proudly at their reactions and companionably pulls up a chair between them. The twins valiantly try to pull themselves together and then proceed to stare intensely at Isaac. Isaac squirms uncomfortably under their joint scrutiny and his smile falters.

“So…” Stiles begins.

“Isaac.” Genim finishes.

“What? Why are you guys looking at me like that?” Asks Isaac, a little frantic.

The boys look at each other momentarily and then back to Isaac.

“Is knotting a real thing for werewolves?” The twins ask.

Isaac blinks. And then blinks again. When he realizes they’re actually being serious his eyebrows rise up as far as they can go before he shakes his head and takes a breath.

“Well I personally wouldn’t know anything about that. I’m not… _privileged_ enough to have that honour.” Isaac shrugs uncomfortably. “You’d probably have to ask Derek or Peter about that because they’re born werewolves.”

“Okay well how about you stay a while and help us sift through some of these wolfy facts then eh?” Genim grins.

“We’ll even buy you a milkshake after for your troubles!” chips in Stiles.

Isaac smiles enthusiastically, clearly thrilled to be included in the twins’ shenanigans and eager to help. Stiles quickly sifts through the phony websites and teen Twihard blogs in search of relevant research articles about wolves. Upon finding a decent website, Genim quickly opens up a new document on his computer and creates another spreadsheet.

“Okay! So first thing’s first, we need to just get some basic facts out in the open because neither Gummy or I have ever run around with you guys on the full moon when you’re at your furriest state.” Stiles turns to face Isaac expectantly. “So, do you guys actually turn into full wolves? Like running around on all fours wolves who are totally furry?”

Not missing a beat, Isaac replies “Well we can but we don’t do that all the time. It takes too long for everyone to get their ducks in a row and get running, plus it gets super awkward when we shift back and everyone is in the buff. I mean I appreciate nudity as much as the next person but really no one wants to see a naked Peter.”

The three boys shiver in collective disgust at the mere thought of Mr. Creepy Pedo-Wolf in the nude.

“Okay moving on!” says Genim quickly. “Can you guys turn at will at any time? Or is it just during the full moon?”

“Well we can do it anytime but it’s easiest when it’s the full moon” clarifies Isaac.

“Cool beans! Now for the real wolf facts!” Stiles whispers excitedly. “Ok so it says here that wolves run on their toes, which helps them to stop and turn quickly and to prevent their paw pads from wearing down. True or false?”

Isaac blinks, a little surprised. “I’ve never actually thought about that on a conscious level, but now that I think about it, it actually does make sense why we do it. Truth.”

“Excellent.” Genim logs the explanation on his spreadsheet and then looks up to read from the wolf website. “A male and female that mate usually stay together for life. They are devoted parents and maintain sophisticated family ties.”

“True as far as I know. I mean look at how Erica and Boyd are together.” Isaac smiles gently at the mention of his packmates. “As far as the ‘devoted parents’ part I’m kinda skeptical, cause I mean Peter and Derek aren’t exactly poster perfect parent material…”

Stiles starts to read off the next fact while Genim logs the new information. “Okay we’ve all kinda had some experience with this little tidbit so I just want to get some clarification on this one.” Stiles rolls his eyes and then continues, “Under certain conditions, wolves can hear as far as six miles away in a forest and ten miles on the open tundra. Yay or nay?”

“Yay. I mean I can’t speak for the tundra experience but yeah definitely if we’re in a forest and we’re really focused it’s pretty easy to hear that far for us. It also helps that we focus more on hearing heartbeats rather than other sounds but still, the point still stands.” Isaac watches Genim frantically log the information with rapt attention.

“Okay well I’ve never seen you guys actually eat so this one seems kinda sketchy to me…” Genim’s eyebrows rise at the newest fact. “A hungry wolf can eat twenty pounds of meat in a single meal, which is akin to a human eating one hundred hamburgers. I mean sure Stiles can pack away the curly fries when the occasion calls for it but it’s physically impossible to eat _that_ much in a single sitting!”

“No you’d be surprised.” Isaac glances away sheepishly. “Although it depends on whether or not we’ve been fighting or running or stressed but that’s like, the absolute maximum amount of food we could ever eat. It also helps that our metabolism is so high.”

Stiles and Genim both look up at Isaac after his explanation, twin expressions of horrified fascination gracing their faces. Genim dutifully logs the information while looking distinctly green around the gills.

“This one seems pretty likely to me, although I just can’t see Derek being too keen to have actual puppies of his own running amok.” Stiles completely misses the look of incredulity on Isaac’s face at his statement of disbelief. “Though many females in a pack are able to have pups, only a few will actually mate and bear pups. Often, only the alpha female and alpha male will mate, which serves to produce the strongest cubs and helps limit the number of cubs the pack must care for. The other females will help raise and babysit the cubs. True or false?”

“Well yeah I guess that’s true. I mean, that’s usually if it’s a huge pack so they can control numbers. But if it’s for a smaller pack like ours, then the alpha could mate and raise pups with _anyone_ they like,” Genim looks up in time to see Isaac staring intensely at Stiles with his eyebrows raised, looking expectantly like he’s hinting at something. “For the better part though I only know what Derek’s opinions are on mated pairs and betas, and he seems totally fine with his betas mingling and dating and stuff but I can’t speak for other werewolf packs.”

Stiles looks incredibly confused at the intensity of the given explanation while Genim looks between the two boys and puts two and two together.

“So then hypothetically speaking,” Genim begins slyly. “A werewolf alpha could mate with a human and have kids and they’d still be as accepted as a werewolf-on-werewolf pairing?”

“Well yeah obviously… didn’t Derek ever tell you about the human parts of his old pack?” Asks Isaac, disappointed but not surprised in their alpha’s recalcitrance. “I mean his mom was the alpha of their pack and his dad was a human. Apparently Derek’s younger sister was also entirely a human and she was born between an interspecies pairing and it didn’t seem like they were treated any differently.”

“Well then,” says Genim, looking like the cat that got the cream. “That explains a few things now _doesn’t it_ my dear brother?”

“Wait what does it explain?” Stiles asks, brows furrowing in confusion.

Isaac looks at Genim, and they share a knowing look as Stiles continues to be oblivious to the subtle mentions of the object of their alpha’s affections.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the twins learn about the finer workings of werewolves, Derek is jealous, and Genim flirts shamelessly with Isaac.

Isaac spends the afternoon in a comfortably squishy library chair playing with a rubix cube keychain while the twins grill him for answers to various werewolf facts. Yes wolves can swim up to eight miles courtesy of webs between their toes they just don’t like to get their fur wet, yes wolves respond to humans imitating their howls it’s because the humans fuck up the pitch so it sounds like a cat screeching and it’s annoying as shit, of course wolves can run up to forty miles per hour when necessary but that’s usually when you’ve got like fifty hunters right on your tail and you need to save your ass, no wolves do not fucking play fetch Stiles I will piss on everything you love make no mistake.

“Well?” Stiles asks, looking frustrated.

“Well what?” Isaac scowls, confused at the undue irritation.

“We asked you about knotting like forever ago and you didn’t really give us an answer.”

“He kinda did… but it was more of a non-answer than anything else,” shrugs Genim.

“Except I actually _did_ give you guys an answer! When I said I didn’t have the privilege of knowing I meant it’s because betas don’t knot. That’s something only alpha males do. Well I don’t really know about Peter because he’s not even an alpha anymore so that’s like a double negative…” Isaac trails off, his brows furrowing in thought.

“Oh… yeah I suppose that makes sense. Plus no one would ever want to ask _Peter_ about knotting,” Stiles shivers at the thought.

“Why do you even want to know about knotting in the first place?” asks Isaac, Cheshire grin firmly set on his handsome face.

Stiles turns scarlet, “What!? It’s purely for research purposes!”

“Sure thing big bro, sure thing,” coos Genim, smirking impishly.

“I don’t like either of you and you’re totally not coming to my birthday party.”

Isaac cackles, “What are you? Five?”

Genim looks over at Isaac and grins, “That depends, do you mean physically or mentally?”

Stiles glares at the two boys while they giggle maniacally at his expense.

“Fine,” says Stiles, his voice frosty. “What can you tell us about reflexes?”

Isaac gives one last giggle and wipes the tears from his eyes, “What about them?”

“Are there any immediate things that make your reflexes go haywire? Like a nerve that pinches or a smell or a sound or whatever?”

“Um, the only thing I can really think of is personal space around our faces. We really hate having things shoved all up close.” Isaac’s nose scrunches up in thought. “It’s like if I went up to you and clapped really close to your face, it’s that kind of shocking and disorienting.”

“Just your face in general or a specific feature?” inquires Stiles, clearly hooked on the conversation.

“Generally yeah, but our noses tend to be a sensitive feature for us. Like a while back Derek was training us and trying to explain how certain bodily reflexes could screw us over if we didn’t consciously guard them,” Isaac’s brows furrow and his eyes go cloudy, obviously recalling a difficult memory. “And then creepy Peter came down and showed us what Derek meant.”

Genim stops typing, “Showed you?”

“Yeah he walked up to Jackson and flicked him hard right on the nose. I mean on the one hand it _was_ hilarious because Jackson just completely froze,” Isaac snorts at the memory, clearly amused. “But on the other hand it was weird because none of us knew that was even a weak spot. Apparently there are other ways to stop us in our tracks by just using our noses, like when you blow really hard and really quick on them we freeze because our instincts think it’s an attack on our face. Or even just putting a finger on our noses and applying a steady pressure because it completely shifts our focus away from what we’re doing and onto the finger… it’s what Derek does when one of us is getting too worked up during practice.”

The twins are silent as they digest this new piece of information. And then Isaac squirms in fear when the twins give him the most unholy of grins.

“Well that was certainly informative!” says Genim and smiles blindingly at Isaac.

“I’ll bet it was”, Isaac laughs as he lights up in delight at his newfound friend.

“Okay sweet, send that document over to the printer and then wipe it from the hardrive. We can’t risk any hunters finding this kind of information.” Says Stiles as he skitters over to the printer. Genim turns back to the screen to print the document and, once Stiles returns with the printed document, proceeds to wipe the file from the computer. Isaac leans in to watch more closely and his eyes widen as he sees just how deep into the computer Genim is going.   
“Okay wow, I clearly underestimated your skills with a computer…” Isaac’s voice trails off distractedly.

Genim turns to smile serenely at him, “We all have our gifts”.

“Damn straight,” Isaac shakes his head in disbelief. “So are you guys coming to the pack barbeque tonight? Derek’s been running us ragged and Peter says we need more stuff that encourages pack bonding… or whatever the hell that means.”

“Barbeque?” Stiles looks up, clearly confused. “But Derek never texted me about anything happening…”

“Are you sure?” Isaac’s eyes widen. “Because he just texted me asking where you guys were because you haven’t been answering your phone all day.”

“… oh.”

“Yeah _oh_. Our high and mighty alpha has been in a right pissy mood since Genim got here.”

“What!?” Genim’s eyes widen comically in shock. “What could I have possibly done to offend him? Well I mean besides calling his pack puppies and sort of being responsible for breaking his brain a little but _still_!”

“Yeah I mean what does Sourwolf have to be mad about?” Stiles flails his arms around, trying to emphasize his conundrum. “I mean I told him that Genim was coming well before he even got here, I’ve still been researching and whatnot, and I’ve even been less annoying to him lately!”

“Exactly! You’ve been annoying him less.” Isaac completes the rubix cube and grins.

The twins scrunch up their faces in mirror expressions of confusion.

“What.” Is their intelligent response.

“Well think about it,” Isaac picks up Genim’s backpack and carefully starts to put the rubix keychain back onto the zipper. “Stiles is usually his go-to person for just about everything right? Pack needs more food? Call Stiles, he can pick up something healthy. Someone’s been hurt and isn’t healing? Call Stiles he’ll know what to do. One of the betas is feeling emotionally vulnerable? Call Stiles he gives great hugs and always knows what to say. Don’t have a clue what to do even though I’m the alpha? Call Stiles he’ll know what to do and he won’t say anything to the others. I don’t really think you understand just how much he relies on you Stiles.”

“But like-“ Stiles’ brows draw down and he clenches his fists. “I’m not the only person who can do those things so he doesn’t _need_ me! He’s not _that_ helpless.”

“That’s true,” agrees Isaac. Stiles’ face crumples sadly at the admission, clearly expecting some grand defense of how necessary he is. “He may not need you, but he certainly does _want_ you.”

Genim nods sagely, “That’s what I thought too. I mean when we visited yesterday he always listened to what you had to say and it looked like he was always aware of where you were.” Genim inspects the completed rubix cube closely. “I mean sometimes he would end up watching me by accident and it would be hella creepy but still. He seems to be pretty into you.”

 “Were you guys dropped on your heads as babies or something?” mutters Stiles as he swivels his chair around to hide his blush in a random book.

Isaac and Genim share a knowing look and Isaac’s cheeks flush a light shade of pink when Genim doesn’t immediately look away. While the notes are being carefully organized and packed away Stiles pulls out his phone to check the inbox and sees seven unread messages, all of them from Derek.

_How do you put out a grease fire on the stove??? – Derek_

_Nevermind crisis averted – Derek_

_How long do you steep that lemon tea? Erica says I made it wrong the first time and that you know how to do it best – Derek_

_WHY DID THE TEABAG EXPLODE I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING TO IT??? – Derek_

_We’re having a pack BBQ later tonight, are you coming? – Derek_

_I guess you can bring the other one too… – Derek_

_Stiles will you come? – Derek_

Stiles tries to reign in his gleeful expression, but the dopey smile shines through regardless.

“Hey Gummy, how do you feel like having a barbeque with a rowdy pack of werewolves who eat like heathens?”

“Hey!” Isaac cries indignantly.

“I feel like it could be an interesting experience.”

“So you’ll come?”

“If only to make sure Derek’s intentions towards my brother are entirely pure and virtuous,” Genim smiles serenely to himself.

“Yeah whatever Chuckles, laugh it up, just make sure you don’t set anything on fire. And also don’t let yourself be alone with Peter, I still don’t trust Mr. Pedo-Zombie-Werewolf.” Stiles shivers at the thought of Peter.

“Obviously, dipshit, I’m not an idiot like you now am I?”

“No you’re right, you’re stupider than that,” cackles Isaac.

“Is that anyway to treat a respected guest of the fair Beacon Hills?” Retorts Genim, with a sly grin on his face.

While Genim and Isaac are distracted, Stiles sends off a quick reply to Derek.

_Don’t I always? – Stiles_


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stiles tests out new information, Derek is actually a jealous 5 year old, and Isaac gets a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a friendly heads up that this chapter has a LOT more swearing and Gummy gets pretty vicious when Stiles gets hurt. And by vicious I mean like rabid-enraged-wolverine kind of vicious. But he's also a cheeky and flirty little shit so it all balances out? Idek ENJOY!

After leaving the library, the three boys head to the jeep to make their way over to the Hale house and aside from some minor issues of vehicular cleanliness, they manage to get there in record time with minimal fuss. If by ‘minimal fuss’ you mean Isaac retching the whole way there and complaining about the moldy cheeseburger festering away under the back seat and Stiles getting pissed at Genim for not picking up after himself. Somewhere in the distance the Sheriff sneezes and thinks longingly of the days when he was able to pass off his offspring as being relatively normal. With ‘relative’ being the keyword here.

Derek however, is not having such a good day. After the grease fire, the teabag incident, and Peter taking over command of the barbeque he’s ready to just throw a tantrum and call it a day. Derek huffs at the sight of Peter commandeering the food while looking vaguely sinister, and heads around the side of the house to lounge on the front porch to wait for the rest of his pack to arrive.  Grabbing the first book he sees on the shelf, he plunks himself down on the porch swing to relax and wait away from the shenanigans of his pack. His nose twitches at the smell of fresh lemon mixed with sugar, and he focuses in on the familiar banter between Erica and Boyd in the kitchen as they mix together Stiles’ homemade lemonade recipe. Ah yes, Stiles. The ever present thought on his mind. Derek’s brows furrow as he realizes just how long it’s been since he hasn’t had Stiles to rely on for everyday pack occurrences.  Stiles always knows what to do, what to say, what routes to take to get where he wants to go, and he _always_ knows what he wants. Derek envies him his clear sightedness and sighs deeply at how much he wishes he had the ability to plot a direct path through life, rather than muddle through with his half-formed plans and hopes.

He opens the book and stares at the words unseeingly, thinking of Stiles and how he holds his pen as he makes notes. The long, pale fingers dexterous but not bone-thin, how he bites his lip if he’s really focused on something. Derek draws a shaky breath as he thinks of the sounds that Stiles makes as he stretches after sitting in one place for too long, the graceful slope of his neck as he tilts his head backwards, the way his shoulders draw back, and the thin sliver of skin that shows just above the waistband of his jeans. Derek swallows, his mouth suddenly dry, and wishes he had some of that lemonade to distract himself. He tries to will himself to read the book, in an effort to lessen the tightness of his jeans. Derek has barely managed to get his erection under control when he hears the telltale sounds of Stiles’ beat up old jeep trundling its way up his driveway.

Stiles is the first one out of the jeep, squabbling with Genim over the cleanliness of the jeep and the importance of not growing new species of critters in the backseat. Isaac comes around holding the plastic bag of garbage at arm’s length, grimacing at the foul smell.  As they make their way to the porch, Derek feels the weight lift off his chest and he breathes in the familiar scent of Stiles and warmth and _pack_. He closes the book and is just starting to stand up to greet them properly when Genim, noticing the gooey look on Derek’s face, jumps on Stiles’ back and hangs there with all the easy grace of a koala. Stiles doesn’t miss a single beat and automatically takes hold of Genim’s legs so he doesn’t fall. Derek’s fists clench at the openly affectionate display, and his eyes begin to bleed crimson from the slow burning rage. It all comes to a head when Genim brazenly looks Derek right in the eye and gives the most shit-eating smirk possible, his eyes narrow and he clenches his arms tighter around Stiles’ shoulders. Jealousy rears its ugly head as Derek snarls viciously at Genim while Isaac freezes and goes sheet white in fear. Stiles, finally realizing that Derek is present, takes stock of Isaac’s panicked expression and then swivels his head towards Derek. He briefly goes through his mental database of angry Derek faces and scrolls through its archives to look for what this particular face means. When he can’t find it in his Derek catalogue he shrugs internally and dubs it as Derek’s “not-quite-a-pack-member-trespassing-on-his-territory” face. Hoping to diffuse the tension, he gently lets Genim down and coaxes the terrified Isaac closer to him.

“Hey Sourwolf! Lay off the red eyes and growliness, it’s scaring one of your kids.”

Derek briefly glances over to Isaac, who is huddling in on himself and shaking minutely, and deliberately relaxes himself to let the red bleed out of his eyes. Isaac stops looking like he’s two seconds away from wetting himself and quickly runs to hide behind Stiles. Sensing an immediate bloodbath if tensions don’t dissolve, Stiles gently takes the trash bag from Isaac’s hands and ruffles his unruly curls.

“Okay kids,” Stiles gently pushes Isaac closer to Genim. “Big daddy alpha and I need to talk about grownup stuff so why doesn’t Isaac give Gummy the VIP tour of the house?”

Genim turns to smile blindingly at Isaac and Isaac bounds happily over to him. Only once they two have disappeared around the corner of the house does Stiles start to walk up the stairs to where Derek stands.

“So, I heard you had an eventful morning.”

“That’s one word for it.”

“No lasting damage to people or property?”

“… More or less.”

“Any lasting psychological scarring?”

“None that I can tell.”

“Well I guess you can’t win’em all.” Stiles shrugs ambivalently.

Derek’s attention is drawn to the moles peeking out from the collar of Stiles’ shirt, and his ears flush pink at the tips in response. Derek is so absorbed in staring that he completely misses the contemplating look Stiles gives him. This could have given Derek the 0.3 second warning he needed to properly deflect the incoming hand to his face. Understandably, the sharp flick of fingers against his nose is shocking enough to his system to draw multiple responses. Derek’s first response is a full body freeze, followed by an almost immediate retaliation to the attack. Before he knows what he’s doing Derek has slammed Stiles against the wall so hard that a resounding crack fills his ears.

“Woah! Dude calm down I didn’t meant to do it I swear to god _oh my god oh my god oh my god please don’t kill me it was an accident-_ “ Stiles cuts himself off looking frantic and flushed, his eyes wide with panic.

Once Derek’s instincts assure him that the threat has passed he slowly comes back to himself. He takes note of the wide amber eyes, the wild fluttering of Stiles’ heartbeat, and then he sees the small dribble of blood making its way down the back of Stiles’ neck. Derek immediately takes his hands off of Stiles and carefully turns his head to the side to inspect the wound more closely.

“Shit! I didn’t mean to slam you so hard.” Derek gently puts his hand on the small of Stiles’ back and leads him to the bathroom. “Why the fuck did you think flicking my nose would be a good idea?”

Still shaking, Stiles quips, “In hindsight it may not have been the brightest of ideas. But it was done in the name of science!”

“What.”

“Empirical observation my dear Sourwolf!”

“Okay detective dumbass, sit down and let me take a look at your head. I got you pretty good and I don’t want any splinters making you any crazier than you already are.”

“Hey!” Stiles gingerly sits on the toilet seat. “I resent that!”

“I’m sure you do,” Snarks Derek, pulling out the first aid kit.

“Dude” Stiles smiles softly at Derek”… You do know that I’m okay right?”

“… I’m still sorry about it. It was just totally my instincts telling me that someone was attacking me.” Derek scowls at the bandages and pulls out the antiseptic. “It’s a shitty excuse but it’s the only one I’ve got.”

“Well I _did_ know what kind of reaction I’d get. Kinda. I mean Isaac was helping Gummy and I at the library this afternoon and he was telling us firsthand stuff about werewolf reflexes and junk- OW!” He winces as Derek puts the antiseptic on the cut, and then hisses at the slight burn.

“Sorry!” Derek flinches at the moue of discomfort Stiles lets out. “But what kind of stuff did you talk about?”

Derek uses his free hand to cradle Stiles’ jaw while he speaks, keeping his head level while he cleans away the blood and checks for splinters.  Derek indulges himself for a moment, his thumb gently rubbing circles into Stiles’ skin and letting the warmth and scent seep into his hand.

“– And then Gummy went and Obi-waned the computer and was all ‘these are not the files you are looking for’ and Isaac was like _woah_ and was super impressed with him and I kinda think they’re good for each other in a weird nerdy flirty way, do you think so? I think so and I mean Gummy’s always been the tech savvy one so he’d probably have no problem hacking into the Argent’s shit if you asked him nicely, and he’s actually really good at securing things so it’d be good if you want another copy of the Bestiary on your computer that’s like super special encrypted or whatever. But dude! We have a huge-ass pile of notes now about werewolves that the Argent’s don’t even know about and Gummy was the one who thought up all the technical questions cause he’s more concerned about that and I – “

“You seem to be spending an awful lot of time with the other one lately.” Derek interrupts sullenly.

“… Well _duh_ , he’s my brother?” Stiles’ face scrunches up in confusion. “It’s kind of a given that I’ll be spending time with him.” Stiles laughs, thinking Derek’s scrunchy face is a joke.

Derek bristles at the laughter and venomously spits out, “Well thank you Captain Obvious, what I _meant_ was that it’s affecting the pack.”

“What the– _how?_ ” Stiles demands, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “He’s my brother! Of course I’m gonna spend a good chunk of my summer hanging out with him. I even told you I’d be spending less time with the pack!”

“Exactly.” Derek scowls down at the bloody tissues in his lap. “And now that you’re not here to help carry your load, things are falling to other people and it’s putting everything off balance.” He knows he’s being childish but _dammit_ it’s been forever since he’s had Stiles all to himself and he can’t help feeling resentful towards the person responsible for it. He knows Genim isn’t actually a bad person, but the little smirks and the touches and the familiarity he has with Stiles are putting Derek on edge because he _wants that_ with Stiles but isn’t sure how to get it.

Stiles’ face falls “Well fuck you very much, what gives you the right to get mad at me for spending time with my family? I haven’t done anything wrong!” Stiles bats Derek’s hands away angrily.

“No, but he’s a danger to the pack. I don’t know him and frankly I don’t trust him not to mouth off and spill everything to some hunters!” Derek snarls.

“What the fuck? Get off your high horse and check yourself. I’m the one with ADD and I’m the one who, statistically speaking, has a way higher chance of screwing things up and letting the proverbial wolf out of the bag!” Stiles stands, knocking the first aid kit to the floor and scattering supplies everywhere. “And why does it matter what I do? I’m not really pack now am I? I’m just Scott’s annoying little friend who tags along and does research and patches up wounds. All I do is solve everyone’s problems and get ignored!” Tears well up in his eyes, glossing them over, and Stiles feels like he’s two inches tall. “I’m just the handy-dandy fixer-upper guy that you guys all come to whenever you’ve broken something. I am _not_ pack.”

Throughout Stiles’ speech Derek remains frozen and rooted to his spot on the floor. Guilt floods his insides as he hears Stiles deny being pack, and he feels like the worst kind of person as he listens to Stiles’ voice break every time he gives a new reason why he’s not a part of them. Derek feels his shoulders hunch in and his mouth opens and closes, but no words come out.

“Well thanks,” says Stiles, tears finally spilling over. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. It’s nice to finally confirm that I’m not pack. You giant fucking ASSHOLE!” The last word is screamed at Derek, echoing off the white tiled bathroom and through the house. Stiles pushes his way past Derek and slams the door behind him on his way out.

Scott, bless him, is there in an instant. “Stiles!? What’s wrong? What happened?”

Stiles shakes his head and chokes on a shaky breath, “I’m going home.”

He pushes his way past Scott and flees out the front door, briefly glancing towards the kitchen on his way out to see Erica and Boyd staring wide-eyed at him. Stiles hears Genim and Isaac frantically calling his name but continues on towards the jeep, not sparing a glance behind him. The tires squeal loudly as he peels out of the driveway and speeds down the road.

Scott is the first to get his bearings and reacts accordingly.

“What the fuck did you say to him?” He snarls. “Stiles _never_ loses his cool like that!”

“I just – I didn’t think – “ Derek flounders.

Genim, who slams him up against the wall in a blind rage, interrupts Derek.

“Of _course_ you didn’t fucking think! From what I’ve heard about you and your grand plans _you never fucking do_.” Genim is so angry that his whole body is vibrating with barely restrained tension. “I swear to GOD if you ever do that to him again I’ll rip out your intestines and watch you choke on your own blood.”

Genim releases Derek from the chokehold and steps back to take some deep, calming breathes. He ends up pacing back and forth along the front hall while the betas look on with expressions ranging from mildly surprised to downright shell-shocked. Surprisingly, Isaac is the first one to break the silence.

“Genim, I could drive you home if you want? I mean, if I can borrow Derek’s car?” Isaac turns to Derek imploringly.

Derek withdraws the keys to the Camaro with shaking fingers and nods at Isaac.

“Make sure he gets home safely.” He tells Isaac.

But before Isaac can respond Genim snarls “Go fuck yourself with a rusty chainsaw you jackass!” and proceeds to storm angrily out of the building.

Once they’re ensconced in the Camaro Isaac turns towards Genim, subtly scenting the air to get a feel for what emotions are at the surface. A few minutes out of the forest, Isaac deems it safe enough to break the silence.

“Will Stiles be okay?” He asks tentatively.

Genim lets out a gusty sigh, “I honestly don’t know. I mean I didn’t hear anything he said so I don’t even know what they were fighting about. I’ll have to see how he is once I get back… if dad hasn’t already brought out his shotgun.”

“All I heard was the end bit. Something about Stiles not being pack?”

“Oh _shit_.” Genim closes his eyes, and sighs again. “Yeah that’s kind of a touchy subject with him.”

“But why?”

“Well the way he put it with me is that he doesn’t feel like pack because when he’s not being called for help or research he’s being ignored. He’s never once thought of himself as pack.”

“What!?” Isaac’s voice breaks in shock. “But like, Derek goes to him for help with _everything_ and we always do movie nights and he cooks for us and helps us with our homework and a whole bunch of other stuff! If that doesn’t make him pack then I don’t know what does.”

“Well you’re the pack expert here not me,” Genim smiles weakly. “But I’ll keep that in mind when I have to comfort him with tubs of Ben’n’Jerry’s later.”

“Okay, I can keep you posted on Derek if you want?”

“Yeah that would be good, thanks man. It’ll be useful if I want to know how to get back at him for this.”

“I figure you should know that I’m simultaneously amused and horrified by that statement.” Isaac says calmly.

“Live and let die amirite?” Genim’s eyes harden. “It’s all in the details anyways. Just subtly let him know that I can register him as a sex offender in all 50 states, and Canada.”

Isaac shudders, “… will do.”

“Awesome! A brand new partnership is born! We should seal the deal somehow!”

“Wait seal what – “ But before Isaac can finish, he feels the warm and slightly chapped lips of Genim on his cheek. Luckily, they’ve arrived in the suburbs and aren’t in any immediate danger of running someone over or crashing into a building, so Isaac manages to pull into the Stilinski’s driveway without killing or maiming anyone.

Genim calls out “See ya later gorgeous!” and blows a kiss after he shuts the car door. He cackles on his way up the stairs at Isaac’s flushed face and grins to himself.

Isaac grins like a moron the whole way back to the Hale house, and doesn’t regret a single second of it. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which breakfast is a battleground, Derek apologizes via puns, and the Sheriff has a hot date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a good idea to listen to "Careless Whisper" on youtube when reading the date part just to get a feel for how hilarious the entire situation is. Plus I can't listen to that song without giggling anyways so there's that too LOL

Sunday morning sees Genim quietly puttering around the kitchen making a big breakfast of blueberry pancakes for everyone. He heaps two plates high with pancakes, puts a pat of butter on the top of each stack, and drenches everything with maple syrup. Carefully balancing the plates and two mugs of coffee on a tray, Genim quietly makes his way upstairs to Stiles’ bedroom. After opening the door Genim places the tray on the computer desk, pulling out the swiveling chair and taking a seat. He sighs, watching the steady rise and fall of his brother’s chest under the covers, knowing full well that Stiles is awake.

“Good morning Steelies. The earth says hello!”

No response. Typical.

“Awesome! I’ll just eat all these delicious blueberry pancakes by myself.”

A deep sigh comes from under the covers.

“What do you want Genim.” Asks Stiles sarcastically. “A hug? Maybe for us to cry on each other’s shoulders? Slow dance to Celine Dion?”

“Yeah I think I’ll pass on that one bro,” Genim smiles, relieved at finally getting a response. “Let’s be honest here, because neither of us look very good when we cry.”

“Fuck you I am majestic.”

“Says the talking bed burrito.”

Stiles sits up and scowls, “Are you just gonna mouth off or are you actually gonna pass me that plate?”

“Here,” Genim hands Stiles the plate. “Blueberry, your favourite.”

Stiles narrows his eyes, “why are you being nice? That usually ends up with someone in pain or in trouble.”

“Honestly? I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I mean I chewed the fuck out of Mr. High-and-Mighty Alpha after your whirlwind exit last night.” Genim stuffs a chunk of pancake into his mouth, and chews thoughtfully.

“Yeah well… it’s not as simple as you’d think.” Stiles sips his coffee, and shrugs noncommittally. “Derek and I don’t really get along. I’d just hoped he’d at least thought of me as pack but I guess I was wrong.”

Genim frowns, “Well Isaac said that everyone else considers you pack?”

“Yeah, that’s just because Isaac finally has people that he can call family who don’t lock him in the freezer overnight.”

Genim goes deathly still. “ _What_.”

Stiles looks up from cutting his pancakes, only to see the absolutely murderous expression on Genim’s face. Backtracking over the last part of the conversation, he finishes his mouthful and quickly moves to reassure Genim.

“Well, his dad was this abusive douchebag who used to lock him in the freezer whenever he got pissed. Dad was always going on about how they never had enough proof to call child services, even though Isaac was always in and out of the hospital for weird bruises and broken bones and stuff.” Stiles scowls deeply, “And apparently Jackson knew all this shit was happening because he’d see stuff from his house across the street. And of course because he’s a dick he did nothing about it.”

Genim’s face remains frozen in silent rage, his knuckles bone-white where they grip his plate.

“I mean in a weird twist of irony Jackson ended up killing Isaac’s dad.” Stiles pauses thoughtfully. “Well, the Kanima did.”

“So that’s why he’s so quiet whenever there’s pack fighting and yelling.” Genim clarifies, voice gone blank from anger.

“Basically, yeah.” Stiles smiles bitterly. “But at least he’s officially pack.”

“Fuck Derek and the wolf he rode in on. You don’t need to be pack to mean something to those wolves out there!”

“It’s kinda hard to not hear him say otherwise… It would’ve been easier to accept if he’d at least tried to deny it or something.” Stiles sighs, drawing shapes in the leftover syrup.

“Isaac was totally adamant about you being pack though,” muses Genim. “He was pretty shocked when I told him how you felt about it.”

Stiles looks up, his amber eyes wide with surprise, a smile playing at his lips. He then smirks into his coffee mug, “You and Isaac seem to be getting pretty close there eh bro? Got a little Twilight crush on team wolf?”

“You’re adopted and you smell bad.”

“ _Oh_ be still my poor injured heart!” Stiles places a hand on his brow dramatically. “My fragile ego is _so_ wounded.”

“Damn right it is! Ready to take a _pounding_ from a certain Sourwolf are we?” Genim cackles at the very fetching shade of scarlet gracing his brother’s face.

“Ugh why do we even put up with you… like _seriously_.”

“Speaking of seriously, you should seriously call Scoot to let him know how you’re doing,” Genim slurps up the rest of the syrup off his spoon. “Because he looked just about ready to rip out Derek’s lungs through his eyes.”

“… Yeah I’ll go call him”

“Okie dokie Steelies, you do that.”

Just as Stiles reaches for his phone to fire off a text to Scott, the twins hear an enormous crash from downstairs, followed by the filthiest string of expletives ever uttered within the Stilinski household. Genim pauses in licking syrup off the plate to glance up at Stiles pensively.

“I think someone just remembered they have a date tonight.”

Stiles grins, “And that someone just remembered that he has no clue how to be romantic.” After firing off a rapid-fire text to Scott, Stiles watches his brother calmly collect the plates and cups and stack them on the tray before they head downstairs together.

The sight that greets them when they enter the kitchen is a lively one to say in the least. The Sheriff’s shirt buttons are buttoned into the wrong holes, his hair is sticking up in every direction, his socks don’t match, and his fly is undone. The fact that the kitchen is in shambles does very little to lend any credibility to the Sheriff’s sanity. Jam is spread all over the counter, the coffee maker is making unnatural whirring sounds, and when the Sheriff turns around towards his sons; two pieces of burnt toast come flying out of the toaster to smack him in the side of his face. Needless to say, the Sheriff’s surprised flailing is pretty spectacular.

“What the- boys how did you- WHY IS THE TOASTER ATTACKING ME?”

Genim simply blinks, ducks around the sputtering coffee machine, and starts putting the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. Stiles gets his shit together the quickest.

“Hey daddio,” Stiles’ eyebrows creep steadily up his face. “Is there any particular reason why you look like a spastic domestic clown today?”

“What?” The Sheriff sputters indignantly. “These are the only things that sort of matched!”

“Dad.” Stiles pointedly trails his eyes obviously over his father’s wardrobe choices, judgment practically dripping from his voice. “You look like your dresser just vomited all your clothing rejects at you.”

The Sheriff freezes, glances down at his attire, and looks back up at Stiles. Although, Stiles does feel a little bit bad about the completely frantic look on his father’s face, so he and Genim take pity on the poor man and gently lead him upstairs to get him dressed for his date. Genim leaves while Stiles is picking out the right shirt and tie combo for their dad and comes back armed with real coffee and non-burnt toast and jam.  

“Ok so let’s take stock,” Genim brings out his notepad. “Clean kitchen?”

Stiles holds up a maroon tie and a red tie to the Sheriff’s throat, ’“Check.”

“Relatively acceptable clothing?”

The maroon tie is discarded, “Relatively.”

Genim’s eyebrows climb to his hairline, “Conversation cue cards?”

Stiles fishes around in his pocket for said cue card, “Check and check!”

“Boys,” The Sheriff glances suspiciously between them. “These cue cards are socially appropriate and not offensive right?”

The twins turn to look at each other… and then proceed to grin in a terrifyingly not-reassuring way.

“Honestly father-of-ours-“ begins Stiles.

“Have you _no_ faith in us?” finishes Genim.

The Sheriff snorts, “Absolutely none.”

While the boys make sounds of mock outrage, the Sheriff pulls the red tie out of Stiles’ hands and deftly loops it around his neck. “I have a feeling we’re forgetting something…” he trails off.

“Oh!” Exclaims Stiles, “The food for your romantic soiree for two!”

Genim shoves his face into his hands, “Of _all_ the things I could’ve fucking forgotten-“

“ _Language Genim_.”

“Mi scusi Señor Sheriff!” Genim rips off the old list and starts frantically scribbling away at a new one. ““Ok well we’re going to go to the market to get the food, and _you_ are going to keep calm and watch the game.”

“… But there’s no game tonight-“

“AWESOME SEE YA LATER DAD!” and so the Sheriff finds himself alone with his worries.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They’re in the butcher section debating the merits of thick cut sirloin versus T-bone steaks when they feel it. The unfortunately familiar prickle of someone’s gaze on you when you have your back turned. Stiles glances briefly up over the butcher’s head to the mirror on the ceiling, and has just enough time to spot two men wearing nondescript black clothing. Looking closer, he realizes it’s the two hunters they’d seen from just before entering the library. A discreet nudge to Genim’s side is all it takes. Thanking the butcher for the cuts of meat they turn smoothly back towards the produce aisle and, sharing an affirmative glance, proceed to split up. The hunters end up following after Stiles, who is swiftly picking his way through the bread aisle. Stiles is mere centimeters away from turning into another aisle when hunter #1 grabs him by the arm and spins him around so he’s facing them.

“Woah dude!” Stiles squeaks, his heart pounding. “That’s definitely a Bad Touch! No touchie!”

“Which one are you?”

“…What?” is Stiles’ eloquent response.

“Are you the Beacon Hills wolf boy or are you the visiting twin?”

Stiles blinks. “Wow, oh my god, I didn’t realize I had my own fanclub.” He dramatically places a hand over his heart.

Hunter #2 steps closer and all but purrs, “Mr. Argent is… _interested_ in what you two plan on doing for the rest of the summer.” He dusts imaginary lint off his jacket. “For example, if you two plan on getting involved in certain… _wildlife_ disputes.”

“Ok first of all Mr. Bad Toucherston, speaking in full stops works for some people, but you are not one of those people so stop trying to make full stops happen. They are never gonna happen” Stiles subtly hoists the shopping basket higher up on his arm, muscles tightly coiled, getting ready to smash it into the hunters’ faces if need be. “Second, you don’t even know our names so why would I impart our possibly wolfy knowledge to you? And thirdly,” He meaningfully glances behind the hunters, relief bleeding into every pore of his body. “You can take up any wolf related business with the very much pissed off and _very territorial_ alpha werewolf behind you.” Stiles finishes by smiling sweetly.

Startled, the hunters spin around only to find themselves pinned by their throats to the shelf of hotdog buns behind them, Derek’s sub-vocal snarling purring like a well tuned engine. Derek steps closer, eyes blazing crimson, and keeps eye contact until the hunters look down.

“Tell Chris that if he wants to talk to me he can do it in person,” says Derek, his voice liquid fire. “And that if he ever sends his guard dogs to do his dirty work again, I’ll send you back to him in pieces.” He roughly shoves them back into the shelves, the force knocking a few bags of bread onto the ground. “And if you ever,” Derek steps closer. “Touch Stiles again,” The hunters look ready to piss themselves. “ _I’ll rip your throats out with my teeth._ ”

A butterfly knife is suddenly through the shelves and against the hunters’ throats. “And if you ever touch my twin again and I’ll cut your cocks off and make you choke on them.” hisses Genim venomously.

The hunters exit stage right so fast you can practically see the vapor trails. Derek’s head swivels immediately around to the younger boy, his eyes glancing frantically up and down Stiles’ body to check for any damage.

“Are you hurt? Did they get you anywhere?” Derek steps closer, his hands coming up to brush Stiles’ arms as if to pull him closer.

“No man I’m fine,” Stiles flushes, and looks away. “Just like, chill out would’ya?”

Genim barrels around the corner, subtly trying to retract the butterfly knife, and nearly careens into Stiles from behind.

“Stiles!” A brief glare at Derek. “Are you okay!?”

“YES. For the last time, I AM OKAY!” exclaims Stiles.

“Okay well,” Genim then turns to Derek, scowling. “What the fuck are _you_ doing here?”

Derek’s cheeks flush pink, “I was just- no I wasn’t- I swear I-“

Stiles takes pity on Derek, “Don’t worry Gummy he’s just doing what his normally lurky self does. It’s in his nature to be a creeper wolf.”

Genim shoots Derek the most viciously murderous look he can muster and scoffs.

“Well I’m gonna go pay for the food,” he yanks the basket out of Stiles’ hands. “Keep the flirting to a minimum and I’ll meet you at the jeep in ten.” And stomps off.

“Will do?”

They stand there awkwardly for a few minutes, each trying to get closer while valiantly trying not to make eye contact. Surprisingly, it’s Derek who breaks the silence first for once.

“I’m sorry.”

Stiles blanches, “Wait what?

“I’m a complete idiot.”

“… Yes I think we’ve already established that, but why?”

“You’re easily the most indispensable member of my pack.” Derek squirms, looking for all the world like he’d rather be pulling his own teeth out than talking about his feelings. “And for the record, you _are_ a member of my pack. You always have been.” Derek looks up, his eyes soft, and Stiles has a moment to wonder where the real Derek Hale is before he realizes he’s supposed to respond.

“Oh,” is his brilliant reply.

Derek snorts, “I may be the alpha but I’m sure as _hale_ never the one with the plan.”

Stiles blinks, “Did you just-” he narrows his eyes, “make a… pun?”

Derek’s mouth quirks up on one side, his cheekbones dusted with pink and the tips of his ears flaming scarlet. Stiles giggles, and then suddenly they’re both bent over with their hands on their knees, wheezing and gasping for air between bouts of laughter.

“Oh my _god,_ ” Stiles wheezes. “Ok seriously, don’t ever try to grow a sense of humour, just use that dry wit mixed with some sarcasm and you’ll be golden.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so, because apparently I am the not so star-spangled-man with a plan” Stiles preens.

Derek shakes his head, “Well okay then Captain America.” He rummages through his coat pockets for a moment before procuring a neatly wrapped parcel. “Um… I didn’t know if my apology would work but um… I was kinda hoping this would butter you up enough to not have your psycho twin kill me.”

Stiles gingerly takes the package from Derek, and is stopped from opening it by Derek flailing, “No! Don’t open it until you get home! It’s not…um… normal for public consumption?”

Stiles raises his eyebrows in response, clearly intrigued by his mystery present and amused with Derek’s reaction. “Okay then Commander Sourwolf. I’ll report for duty tomorrow as per our usual post-work training sessions.” And smiles up at Derek, his heart pounding a mile a minute. Derek sighs with relief, his pink lips parting obscenely, and Stiles can feel his heart seize at the soft expression on Derek’s face.

“Good.” Derek’s smile back is almost imperceptible, but warm enough that Stiles beams up at him.

“Good!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the twins arrive at the house it’s to the sound of hammer and metal coming from the vicinity of the backyard. They walk around through the side gate only to find their dad fixing the previously downtrodden barbeque.

“Nice work dad!” cries Genim.

“Wait!” Stiles flings a hand out to warn his twin. “Does it still belch flames straight from the fiery pits of Hell itself?”

The Sheriff wipes his grease stained hands on the rag at his feet and carefully attaches the propane tank to the grill. “If by ‘belching flames’ you mean does it still char everything you cook then no, no it most certainly does not do that.” He looks spectacularly proud of his feat of engineering genius.

“Sweet!” Stiles crows. “At least dad has some marketable skills to impress his man for tonight should Coach be, you know, not impressed by the badge and _uniform_.” He cackles.

Genim’s voice drifts smoothly from inside the kitchen, “Yeah I don’t think they’re gonna bring out the kinky costumed roleplaying on the first date Steelies. Daddy isn’t that kinda girl.”

“Boys.”

“You’re absolutely right Gummy. Should we bring out the shotgun when Coach gets here? Maybe give him the patented Stilinski Safe Sex Speech?”

“ _Boys._ ”

“Hmmm, you’re right.  I think we may have to… do we still have those health pamphlets that Mama Mccall gave us? ‘Cause STDs are a bitch!”

“ _Alright, listen here you little shits – “_

 “Ah ah ah, watch your language father dearest!” says Stiles. “Wouldn’t want to scare your date away with your atrocious manners now would we?”

Once the twins have been properly threatened into submission, a threat of impounding the jeep at county lock-up does _wonders_ for teenage obedience, the steaks are set in the fridge to marinate and the salad is tossed. A compromise is reached when the Sheriff complains about the lack of fatty salad dressing, and the twins proceed to make their signature homemade vinegar and orange zest concoction. The Sheriff is setting some beers in the cooler to chill when he hears the telltale scrape of metal on wood. Knowing the damage his sons can do to his backyard he takes a deep, calming breath, and meanders out onto the deck.

And is treated to the sight of a thousand tiny, softly lit fairy lights surrounding the deck. Strings of delicate bulbs are draped around the gazebo structure, strands flow across the railings, and the excess length is being carefully looped and coiled into a pseudo-lantern directly above the dinner table. The table’s dinnerware is simple; the plain white and blue-checkered plates that have been passed down through the Stilinski line, clean silverware, and small water glasses.

“Oh, hey dad!” calls Stiles, perched precariously on top of the small stepladder. “Is it cool if we just use the extra lights as a lamp? Cause it’s gonna get pretty dark out here and the other lanterns are hella fugly.”

“Yeah,” quips Genim, steadying the ladder from below. “And we didn’t think you’d be particularly fond of that ugly cow lamp that aunt Muriel gave us back when we hit the third grade.”

“I thought we threw that thing out a long time ago?”

The twins glance at each other, “Well we tried, but mom vetoed that particular decision,” Genim says softly.

“Oh… yes, that’s right.” Sheriff scratches his chin. “She really loved all that weird, eclectic stuff…”

“Hey dad,” Stiles blurts out, uncomfortable with the sudden turn down memory lane. “Could you fire up the barbeque? The steaks need to grill on a low heat for a while.”

“Sure thing kiddo, and yes, the fairy lamp is fine.” He pauses, “Just make sure it’s secure. I don’t want that thing falling on anyone’s head.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thirty minutes later the table is set, the lights are lit, and the steaks are grilled to perfection. The doorbell rings right on the dot of six o’clock and, after setting the radio on the EZ Jazz station for mood music, the twins disappear upstairs to Stiles’ room. Stiles pulls out _The Fault In Our Stars_ and Genim commandeers the laptop to work on their encrypted werewolf knowledge file. They listen as the barbeque is closed and the steaks are served. They hear the soft clinking of beer bottles touching in a toast, and they hear quiet laughter drifting up from the open window. And of course, because their father is a tried-and-true Stilinski, he fucks everything up by being the most awkward turtle to ever awkward. The lull in the conversation isn’t immediately noticeable to the twins, not over the sounds of muffled jazz coming from the radio, and they don’t pick up on any awkwardness. It’s only when the Coach’s uncomfortable coughs increase in frequency that the twins even notice anything is remiss. So of course, they decide to take drastic action, a little somethin’ somethin’ to break the ice so to speak. Stiles glances up at Genim over the top of his book and, nodding affirmatively, Genim turns back to the laptop and begins to type furiously. Plan: Mood Music is in effect.

Stiles creeps closer to the window and quietly slides it open, just enough to allow the broom handle with the cordless speaker attached to pass through. Seeing as how Stiles’ bedroom is around the back of the house and nearly on top of the back deck, they are in the optimal position for their plan to be effective. Carefully sliding the broom handle out onto the top of the gazebo, Stiles makes sure it’s not in any danger of falling or being discovered before sliding himself back into the safety of the bedroom. He gives Genim a thumbs-up and creeps back to stealthily look out of the window. Genim presses a series of commands into the laptop and George Michael’s _Careless Whisper_ comes blasting out of the broom speaker and onto the unsuspecting heads of their father and his date.

Understandably, the two men below freak the fuck out in a series of highly uncoordinated events. Coach chokes on a piece of steak and turns purple from embarrassment, the Sheriff flails and knocks his empty beer bottle off the table, and when he stands up, the pseudo-fairy lamp bashes him in the head. There’s always a wide margin for error with any Stilinski-made plan, but sometimes things just get a little bit out of hand.

Like right now.

“ _GOD FUCKING DAMMIT YOU LITTLE SHITSTAINS!_ ” roars the Sheriff, nearly apoplectic with rage and looking ready to scale the gazebo to strangle his sons. “ _IF YOU LITTLE COCKMUNCHERS DON’T TURN THAT SHIT OFF IN THE NEXT FIVE SECONDS I’M GONNA COME UP THERE AND RIP YOU TWO A NEW ONE!_ ”

Stiles squeaks (in a totally manly way shut up) and Genim cackles while canceling the program.

“DON’T FORGET THE CUE CARDS DAD!” calls Genim.

 _“_ FUCK OFF!”

“BUT WE’RE JUST TRYING TO HELP YOU BIG GUY!”

 _“I SAID FUCK OFF!_ ”

“ALRIGHT GEEZE! GET YOUR PANTIES OUT OF A TWIST DUDE!”

It’s a miracle that the date can even be salvaged after the music fiasco, but Coach is made of stronger stuff than most folks, and simply shrugs it off and keeps eating his steak. By the time dessert has been served and devoured the two men have moved into the living room to watch that evening’s selection of late night movie on the history network. How the _Fast and the Furious_ series ever qualifies as ‘history’ will forever escape the twins, but by the time they sneak downstairs to claim the leftover pie, their dad and Coach are snuggled up next to each other on the couch and dozing comfortably. But since all good times must come to an end, the old cuckoo clock on the wall chimes in the midnight jingle and wakes the both of them on the couch.

“Well,” Coach rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “I should probably get going. I’ve got a day full of coaching young lacrosse hooligans tomorrow. I need my energy to whip them into relatively productive members of the team.”

“I can only imagine how much energy that would take,” the Sheriff stretches, his spine popping audibly. “The badge commands enough respect that all I have to do is wave it around and people fall in line.” He extends a hand to Coach, heaving him up and off the couch. “Although I have a feeling teenagers don’t particularly care about that.”

Coach grins maniacally, “It’s basically like trying to herd cats.”

“Oh dear Christ,” chuckles the Sheriff. John holds the front door open for Bobby, and feels his body heat up when Bobby’s whole front brushes up against him on the way out. John coughs awkwardly, not knowing the proper end-of-date protocol.

“So,” begins John.

“I had a great time John,” says Bobby. “It’s not every day I get home cooked steak and… classy jazz music- ” they both chuckle, “on a hot date.”

They stand there, close and warm in each other’s personal space, neither wanting to make the first move. But apparently they take too long for the twins’ liking. A single red rose suddenly drops onto Coach’s head from the open window above. And since mood music seems to be a running theme this evening, it’s a pleasant development when the Little Mermaid’s _Kiss the Girl_ comes drifting down from the window amidst barely audible giggles from the twins.

The Sheriff sighs, resigned to having his entire life be played out with his own soundtrack ft. the Stilinski Twins.

“Um,” but John never gets to finish his sentence, because there are suddenly warm and slightly chapped lips pressed firmly against his own. His mind goes pleasantly blank but before he can kiss back the Coach pulls away, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“You’re lucky I kiss on the first date Stilinski!” he smirks. “Don’t get cocky on me!” and, throwing a wink up at the twins, proceeds to saunter down the driveway to his car.

The twins come down not a minute later to find their dad staring dreamily off down the street where Coach disappeared, gently touching his lips. They fist bump each other, give their dad a congratulatory clap on the shoulder, and silently make their way up the stairs to bed, and yet another Star Wars movie. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stiles has an awkward personal encounter in the shower, Derek is a sappy bastard with a previously undiscovered knife-kink, and Genim gets a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I totally could not resist with the gift Derek gives Stiles, it just totally seems like something he'd give him! And seriously, my love for pop-culture references going over the Hale siblings' heads knows no bounds. Knife-play is hot in the right hands. Stiles' hands to be exact.
> 
> Also, separate Genim/Isaac date chapter? y/y?

Stiles is woken up on Monday morning by the slamming of the front door as his father heads out to work for the early morning shift. Of course, since it’s barely the ass crack of dawn he’s able to fall back asleep for another hour before he jerks awake in bed. Stiles feels the cold fingers of dread slide through his intestines because he just _knows_ he’s forgotten something… that’s right! The present from Derek! Scrambling his way out of bed to dig through his dirty laundry from the day before, Stiles claws through the mountain of smelly fabric before he unearths the plain brown package. He takes a moment to examine it; the paper is a light brown colour, the kind used for wrapping fresh meat, with a piece of simple twine wrapped tightly around the whole thing to keep everything held together. He shakes it gently and listens inside of it for any clues about what the present is. Eventually his curiosity wins over his patience and he uses one of the many hidden knives in his room to carefully slice open the package, mindful of protecting the contents from the razor sharp blade. And because nothing Derek does is without rhyme or reason, oh shush we’re giving him the benefit of the doubt here, when the contents of the present fall out onto his lap, all Stiles can do is stare blankly at the item while the heat rises rapidly in his cheeks.

It’s a _vibrator_. Or at least he thinks it is. It’s pretty damn fugly; all dark green and oh _god it’s bumpy too_. The vibrator is roughly six inches long and slender, even considering the smooth bumps that are gently raised along the sides. It’s also surprisingly heavy considering it’s size. Stiles hefts it in his hand and briefly considers what kind of message Derek is trying to send. Is he telling Stiles to relax and enjoy himself? Is he flirting with him? Oh god what if Derek is _propositioning_ Stiles!? The possibilities are endless and quite frankly it’s far too early in the morning to be having an existential and mildly sexual crisis about his possible crushes and/or sexual fantasies gifting him with fugly sex toys as thanks for his research skills. Maybe it’s a werewolf thing? Who even knows. He’s sure as fuck not asking any of the pack about it, because for all that none of the Beacon Hills wolves have no sense of privacy and no concept of personal space, asking about werewolf sexual mating and courting practices is crossing a line that Stiles wasn’t even previously aware there was to cross. Whatever, he’s smart, he can, _ahem_ , deal with this on his own. By researching and experimenting. On himself. Under extremely controlled conditions in a known environment.

So, grabbing the lube hidden under his mattress, Stiles heads over to the bathroom and locks the door. After making sure the towel is within easy reach of the shower Stiles steps into the stall and turns on the water, checking and double checking the water temperature because let’s face it; nothing ruins sexy private shower times more than icy arctic water or hot-as-Satan’s-ass-crack water. Balance is key in life, or so says Buddha… or something. So Stiles grabs the lube from the top of the toilet and steps in the shower to get to work. He spills a generous amount of the fragrant lube onto his long, pale fingers and spreads the liquid around, making sure each finger is liberally coated. Reaching around behind himself, he teases a finger gently around his rim, feeling the muscles clench and contract while the nerves tingle with electrical zings of pleasure. Gradually he works a finger into himself, pumping gently at his cock the whole time, and feels the white-hot pleasure start to coil in his gut. A second finger joins the first and suddenly Stiles needs more, to be so _full_ he can’t even think around the sensations. Stiles gasps as the third finger glides in smoothly alongside the others, the slow burn a good kind of pain. He opens his eyes (when did he even close them?) and grabs the vibrator. Slicking the glossy, bumpy surface up with the extra lube, Stiles reaches back around himself with slow intent, choking back the moans he knows will escape if he doesn’t bite his tongue, and slowly pushes the toy into himself. He shivers, feeling every single bump and ridge tug on his rim on the way into his ass, and gradually picks up the pace. While one hand pumps the toy steadily in and out of his ass, his free hand jerks his cock roughly, feeling the push and pull of the toy and his hand working his body in tandem. Stiles feels the slow coil of pleasure winding its way through his groin, and just when he can feel the tendrils of pleasure flowing down to his cock he moves the vibrator one way and –

**_YODELEYLEY YODELEELELELLLELELELEELE!_ **

The vibrator fucking _yodels_?! What the ever-loving _fuck_?

Of course, given how far into his private time he is, the muffled yodeling coming from inside his ass doesn’t detract from the sexiness, but induces a rather startled orgasm out of an incredibly confused Stiles. The yodeling continues on as splashes of hot come stripe the tiles on the wall in front of him, Stiles gasping for breath the entire time, his hand flying over his now oversensitive cock. Eventually Stiles comes down from his post-orgasmic high, and realizes just what kind of situation he is in, he then questions his life choices and circumstances for what seems to be the five millionth time, and quickly pulls the toy out of his ass to turn off the yodeling.

He blinks away the sweat and confusion and proceeds to wipe down the toy and clean himself off, rinsing away any and all evidence of any yodeling-related orgasms from the history of the Stilinski household. After thoroughly toweling himself off, Stiles makes a beeline for his room and his trusty laptop because that _thing_ is sure as fuck not a fucking vibrator. Several Google searches later, he discovers it is actually what is commonly known as a “yodeling pickle” and that it is in no way a sex toy but rather the vegetarian equivalent of a rubber chicken. Stiles pauses, completely dumbfounded as to why Derek would give him this thing, but then he just giggles and shakes his head, his cheeks dusting with pink.

Meanwhile Derek, being the invasive creeper wolf that he is, has once again already made himself at home in the Stilinski kitchen and is busy making a pot of coffee when one of the Stilinski Twins comes meandering tiredly down the stairs in a “say hey if ur gay” t-shirt. Of course, Derek is distracted from said t-shirt by the adorably sleepy and tousled look gracing the younger boy’s face, and grins like the total closeted sap that he is.

However, because Derek wants to get off on the right foot for once and act like a moderately functional and socially adept adult, he blurts out a greeting. “Hey,” and gives what he thinks is winning smile from beside the coffeemaker.

The intended recipient of Derek’s charms blinks slowly, obviously confused as to the presence of their local alpha werewolf making coffee in his kitchen early on a Monday morning. Awkward silence reigns supreme and just when Derek’s smile begins to falter, maybe the possibly threatening smile with lots of teeth wasn’t so friendly after all, the other boy smiles. A soft, gentle smile, that morphs into a leer as he proceeds to lecherously rake his eyes up and down Derek’s body.

“Well _hello there_ Big Boy,” drawls what is obviously _not_ Stiles.

Derek feels the colour drain from his face and his smile disappears. _FUCK IT’S THE WRONG ONE_ is the only thing running through his mind like a mantra. It’s at this point that Derek notices what Genim’s t-shirt says, and proceeds to facepalm himself so hard that even Genim winces sympathetically. And, not a minute later, this is how Stiles finds them: Derek standing forlornly by the coffeemaker, head cradled in his hands and the tips of his ears bright red, while Genim grins like the Cheshire cat that got the cream, at the base of the stairs.

“Did I miss something?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Embarrassment aside, the rest of the morning moves smoothly from there. Derek throws the twins into the jeep, with smirks on Genim’s part and a brilliantly scarlet flush on Stiles’ part, and leads them to the Hale house in the Camaro.  Five minutes later Derek looks back in the rearview mirror only to notice that the jeep is no longer following him. Figures.

Derek pulls into the Hale driveway and is greeted by the twins perched smugly on the jeep’s hood, grinning ecstatically. Getting out of the car, Derek raises an eyebrow questioningly at the twins and gets absolutely no forthcoming explanation beyond hysterical giggles. Derek gently pushes past them to make his way into the house first and hears Cora puttering away in the kitchen.

“Hey Derek do you want a grilled cheese sandwich?”

“Sure,” Derek shrugs off his leather jacket. “Do we have any tomato soup?”

Cora scoffs, “What kind of uncivilized heathen do you take me for?”

“The kind who threatens to rip people’s tongues out just for dating werewolves who are on your shitlist” quips Genim sarcastically, thinking back on that particularly interesting conversation he had with Stiles about Derek’s long lost sister.

“She was dating an asshole alpha from a pack lead by a murderous demon wolf,” she turns back to the grilled cheese on the stovetop. “It was in very poor taste given the circumstances.”

“Yeah but still,” Genim smiles cruelly. “You’d think you’d be able to come up with a more creative threat to Lydia’s person than that.”

“It’s not my fault you still haven’t gotten over your little crush on her.” The grilled cheese is flipped.

“Well I’ve never particularly been into redheads,” Genim glances stealthily up at Derek, entering the kitchen while distractedly checking his phone. “But Stiles is pretty enthusiastic about them.”

Cora looks up sharply, eyes glowing amber, and scents the air.

“You’re not Stiles.”

“Bingo!”

She shifts the spatula around in her hand, looking ready to club him with it. “Well where is he then? And what are you?” Her claws extend into the wooden handle.

“Steelies is in the hallway and I am a human,” Genim yawns expansively, clearly bored with the proceedings.

“You’ll have my claws in your intestines if you don’t tell me exactly what – ”

“Woah, woah, _woah_!” cries Stiles as he skids dramatically into the room. “Why does everyone in this family lean towards threats of disembowelment and or dismemberment when things don’t immediately go their way?” He turns towards Derek, “Is it a werewolf thing?”  Derek blanches, clearly not expecting the attention.

“Because you’re pack and _he’s_ not?” Derek jerks his thumb in Genim’s direction. Of course Genim, being the incredibly mature person that he is, throws a processed cheese slice at Derek’s face in recompense for the slight against his (apparent lack of) pack membership. It ends up stuck to the side of Derek’s face on his stubble while Stiles snorts unattractively from trying not to laugh.

“Fucking _rude_ ” growls Genim.

Cora looks back and forth between the twins with confusion written plainly on every line of her face and Stiles, deciding to take pity on her, decides to once again enlighten yet another person to the fact that he is part of a matching set.

“Okay Cora before you disembowel someone let me explain to you a thing,” Stiles peacefully raises his hands in the air. “This is Genim, codename Gummy, who is my younger twin –“

“-Only by five fucking minutes you dumb twat!“

“And who is the other half of the matching Stilinski set. Although you’re handling this a lot better than Derek did. I mean I seriously thought we’d broken his brain when he started making all those weird noises and stuff.”

Genim scowls in Cora’s direction, “So who’s this? How do you know Derek and the pack?”

Cora flips the grilled cheese sandwiches onto a plate and goes to ladle out some tomato soup, “I’m Derek’s younger sister.”

“Woah,” Genim’s eyes grow wide, and then he glances slyly over to Stiles. “Is this some kind of weird Folgers commercial or something?” Stiles snorts soup up his nose. “I mean they look _nothing_ alike!”

Derek’s brows furrow, “Folgers? Why Folgers?”

Cora’s eyes narrow dangerously, pissed at the joke that is obviously passing her by. The twins glance knowingly at each other and proceed to giggle conspiratorially into their bowls of soup.

“Well then,” Derek shakes himself off. “I’ve got Erica, Isaac, and Boyd running perimeter this morning so we can talk contingency plans in case those hunters ambush you two again.”

“Dude,” Genim noisily slurps up some soup. “Stiles and I have been carrying butterfly knives on our persons since we hit double digits. And that’s only because we’d been using shitty pocket knives before that, so I think maybe we can protect our little ol’ selves.”

Derek scowls, “And what pray tell can a knife do when someone’s holding a gun to your head?”

“Hey come on Sourwolf!” teases Stiles. “Give us _some_ credit here! You say that like you think that butterfly knives are the _only_ weapons we have intimate knowledge of!”

“What.” Says Cora flatly.

“Oh _god_.” Moans Derek, facepalming once again.

“I mean, remember the whole sniper rifle incident Steelies?”

“Oh obviously Gummy! That was so perfect though like woah!”

“Oh god I know right? That rifle was so well tuned it was a thing of beauty!”

“Until _it_ happened.”

“True.”

Stiles brings the bowl of soup up to his face and noisily sucks back the dregs. “Well what about booby traps? I’m sure we can come up with some Home Alone-esque ones! I mean obviously nothing _serious_ ,” says Stiles, catching the horrified look on Derek’s face. “Nothing beyond a little friendly warning. Maybe some maiming but still… it’s the thought that counts right?”

Genim visibly perks up at the thought, “And if need be we can just bust into dad’s old stash of weapons downstairs!”

“You mean the ones he hides in the safe that he thinks we know nothing about and thinks we don’t know the combination?”

“Yeah those ones!”

Cora and Derek stand frozen beside the stove, faces chalk white with terror at the idea of the twins in possession of illegal firearms and homemade weapons. Eventually though, they relax enough when they realize just how comprehensive the twins’ knowledge of weaponry is. Peter takes this opportunity to slink into the kitchen like the world’s sleaziest predator. Peter glides gracefully past Derek and Cora to get to the tomato soup and doesn’t say a single word.

Cora takes the opportunity to glance at Derek’s, his face relaxed and soft and open while watching Stiles rant and gesture expansively about various types of weaponry, and grins.

“Hey big bro?”

Derek turns calmly towards her, spoon in his mouth.

“Man up and do him. Or _I_ will.”

The glare Derek gives her could freeze lava and stop Satan himself in his tracks. Peter decides to add his two cents and pours fuel on the metaphorical fire by saying, “And if neither of you succeed, I will be _more_ than happy to take on the task.”

The twins’ intense debate is only interrupted when Derek and Cora both punch Peter so hard that he passes out on the kitchen floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Derek unceremoniously drags Peter upstairs to his own bedroom, they all work together to clean up the kitchen to make room for the sketches for protection plans. The bowls and spoons are being put away when the three betas come tumbling into the house in a cacophony of noise and laughter. Erica and Boyd are the first in the kitchen and they greet the twins accordingly, but Isaac follows closely behind, head down and cheeks dusted with pink at the sight of Genim grinning over at him. The curly haired beta takes the stool beside Genim and tries to drag it as close as possible without actually being in the human’s lap. Genim’s grin just gets wider once he realizes what Isaac is trying to do and, once the beta is seated, proceeds to gently tangle their legs together under the kitchen table. Meanwhile, Stiles is intensely grilling Erica and Boyd for all the information possible on the hunters they’d seen on perimeter patrol, while making notes and designs on the map of all the acquired Hale property. Isaac and Genim manage to eventually drag their attention away from just staring longingly at each other, and Isaac dutifully recounts all the information he gathered from patrol.

Cora wipes her hands on the dishtowel and moves to stand closer to Derek. The alpha notices her inquisitive stare and fidgets under her scrutiny.

“Seriously though Derek,” Cora smiles gently, her voice low and soothing. “For a human he’s actually really amazing.” They both glance up at Stiles, now engrossed in drawing up designs for spike pits. “And I am telling you right now, as your concerned little sister, that if you don’t scoop him up then somebody else definitely will. Stiles seems like the closet romantic schmoop type, so just do some sickeningly romantic stuff and fucking _mean it_ and then he’ll be yours forever and you can move in and adopt some cats or something.”

Derek scowls at the hot flush on his cheeks and, while he looks away from Cora and onto Stiles, stays true to his character and says nothing. Cora decides to drive her romantic advice home to her emotionally constipated older brother by punching him in the arm and then giving him a purple nurple. The twins and the three betas look up just in time to see Derek putting her in a (loving) headlock while Cora squeals delightedly.  

“Alright listen up!” Derek uses his most stern alpha voice to get his pack’s attention. “Since Cora is back from the pack alliance meeting with positive terms I will be heading upstate myself to finalize everything and seal any contracts that need my attention. Their support will mean a lot in deterring the local hunters from considering anything drastic. If all goes well, I’ll be back the day after tomorrow.” He glances around the room, pleased to note the serious attention given to the significance of his announcement. “Any questions?”

When no one looks forthcoming with any inquiries Derek turns his attention back to the human twins currently sitting at his kitchen table amidst plans and schemas of destruction and chaos. He takes a quick breath, shakes himself off, and then strides forward towards Stiles.

“Stiles. C’mere for a second, I’ve got something for you.”

Stiles glances up questioningly, his amber eyes wide and trusting, and then follows Derek towards to the breakfast nook on the far side of the kitchen.

“What’s up Sourwolf?” Stiles shoves his hands into the pockets of his signature red hoodie.

“I don’t want you to be caught unaware like you were in the grocery store.” Derek shoves his hand into the pocket of his jeans, rummaging around for something. “So I want to give you this,” he holds out an intricately carved knife, complete with engraved white bone handle with runes on the blade. “It’s been in the Hale family for generations, and it’s got a ton of protection runes so, even with the amount of trouble you normally get into, you should be fine.” Derek’s brows furrow in worry.

Stiles’ face softens at Derek’s gruffly concerned tone, so naturally, he replies with “Hey! I resent that accusation!” to keep Derek from getting embarrassed at talking about his feelings. “I get into a perfectly normal amount of trouble for a teenager!”

Derek raises an eyebrow disbelievingly, “Your best friend got turned by a rabid alpha, your childhood crush is a banshee, you have a twin who has, quite frankly, terrifyingly murderous intent, and you regularly mouth off to people who can and want to kill you.”

“… Well that’s normal for me at least.”

“Just take the knife, please. If only to stop me from dying of worry,” Derek’s eyes meet his, warmth and fear radiating out in equal parts. Stiles feels his cheeks heat up and his legs go wobbly from the heady rush of adrenaline at Gummy possibly being right about his little crush on team alpha. “Because I worry about you a _lot_.”

Derek carefully hands Stiles the knife, handle first, and when Stiles reaches down to take it, gently curls his hand around Derek’s wrist. The tendons move, muscles shift, and Stiles can feel the steady and reassuring beat of Derek’s heart flowing through his veins, strong and healthy and so _alive_. Surely he can give Derek this little peace of mind. Of course Stiles’ plans never go quite the way he wants them to.

“Hey no worries,” Stiles moves closer to Derek, practically sharing the same breath. “My dad is the sheriff, remember? It’s not that we don’t _know_ how to use these things, it’s that we _shouldn’t_ be able to use them like pros. Bit of a difference there, big guy.”  Stiles smiles reassuringly at Derek, and then flicks the knife around like an old western gunslinger at a quick draw, all smooth movement and fluid grace. Derek blinks as the point of the knife is suddenly delicately balanced between Stiles’ (long, elegant, arousing, _shut up Derek don’t go down that path)_ fingers, and Derek’s nose. Derek breathes an internal sigh of relief at Stiles’ proficiency with close-range weaponry, and then makes a mental note to investigate his apparently newfound knife-play kink.

Of course their moment is interrupted when Genim jumps up from the table and lets out the most irritating victory screech possible. Everyone turns away from Genim’s dancing and flailing and cheering to see Isaac grinning widely and blushing a bright pink, his dimples standing in sharp relief to the cut of his cheekbones.

“AW YEAH MOTHERFUCKERS GUESS WHO’S GOT A HOT DATE WITH A SUPER CUTE WEREWOLF!”

“Oh my _god Genim_!” laughs Isaac, clearly not trying very hard to stem the happy outburst from the youngest Stilinski.

“Aw yeah get it Gummy!” crows Stiles. He glances over to Derek, only to see the alpha’s face soft and open and relaxed, happiness radiating from the inside out, and Derek looks ten years younger. Stiles feels his heart clench from wanting to protect Derek, from wanting to always see that look on Derek’s face and know that he doesn’t have to always be the strong and stoic alpha, that he can let his guard down and laugh and love and live life to the fullest. Derek, sensing Stiles’ stare, peers down at Stiles and then grins, his eyes crinkling in the corners. Stiles giggles and moves back to the counter beside his twin to congratulate him on his game with the local wildlife.

“We totally need to document this! For posterity!” Stiles digs frantically throughout his backpack to look for his phone, “So the world will know that Gummy is not completely without game!” Stiles cackles and holds up his phone, ready to take a picture of the new couple. Stiles steps back to get more of his twin and Isaac into the frame when his foot accidentally bumps into his backpack on the floor. Absolute silence reigns in the room as a muffled yodeling filters steadily out of the backpack and into the room, Stiles glances frantically at Derek, remembering the Incident That Shall Not Be Named, and throws a completely mortified look to the room at large when he realizes everyone is staring at him with varying looks ranging from ‘what on earth is that?’ to ‘oh dear sweet baby Jesus on a pink tricycle what unholy hell did I step into?’.

“Um, Stiles?” Lydia cautiously flips her hair over one shoulder and steps closer, “What the hell is that?”

Forever resigned to his weirdness-filled life with extra helping of embarrassment, Stiles pulls out the yodeling pickle and holds it up for inspection.  
“Um, Derek got it for… me?”

Cora narrows her eyes at Derek, “Why on earth would Derek get you a vibrator?”

Derek turns fuchsia and chokes on nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait between chapters! Between work and school prep I've been so busy and tired that it's taken twice as long to write this one! D:


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Derek gets random texts, Cora dishes out her brother's hilarious childhood stories, and Genim and Isaac go on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so I decided to write some delicious smut for this one in honour of my friends Sarah (yellowcityheart) and Emily (wolfbeater) for being my muses of smutty goodness and for putting up with my inane ramblings on skype chat. Our conversations look pretty garbled and yet they encourage me all the way :)))

Derek wakes up in an unfamiliar pack den with strange smells and sounds. He is, understandably, a bit disoriented and isn’t quite at optimal functioning yet.  His phone chirps happily beside him, indicating a new text, and he picks it up to peer blearily at the screen. Apparently he has fifteen text messages, most of them from Stiles, and a voicemail message of Stiles barking out Jingle Bells into the phone with no explanation.

Stiles: _s’up dog_

Stiles: _[ugly laughter]_

Stiles: _Say someone offers you 1$ million, but you have to punch a baby in the face. Also, they tell you it’s an evil baby. It’s got big thick eyebrows and a frown. Do you do it?_

Stiles: _Ages ago I forgot the word ‘put’. Like I couldn’t work out how it sounded, what it mean, what context it was used in. So I googled it and was confused at my findings – it was like someone had snuck a word into my language without my knowledge. I’m still not confident in using it and I think it should be pronounced ‘poot’, like ‘loot’. Why did my brain forget a word?_

Stiles: _I’m working out right now._

Stiles: _Well I’m exercising my eyebrow muscles by raising them up and down. Try it. You’ll be surprised. Your eyebrows will end up super buff just like the rest of you._

Stiles: _There’s a fruit smoothie in the kitchen with your name on it_.

Stiles: _Whoops nope that’s my name. Hellooooooo smoothie!_

Scott: _Hey so Stiles ran out of his Adderall so ignore any weird texts you (may) get from him. Have a safe trip :)_

Stiles: _How long does it take to shit your own body weight_

Stiles: _I mean, assuming you weigh 150 lbs, and you poo 0.75 pounds a day, that means that you shit your own entire body weight out once every 200 days. Imagine that Derek. Imagine a big pile of poo, the size of you, coming out of your ass once or twice a year_.

Stiles: _There comes a time in life when you just say ‘fuck it’ and change your texting signature to the picture of a giant green dildo_

Stiles: _Sometimes I’ll go hands-free when I pee and I’ll make T-rex arms and pretend I’m a new dinosaur called Dickosaurus Rex_

Stiles: _I just googled ‘how to give someone ennui’ and there were no results_

Cora: _Everything is fine here. Hope the pack meeting is going well._

Stiles: _Man I’ve had 3 Redbulls in the past hour and I think I can smell colours now_

Stiles: _I miss your grumpy, scruffy, sourwolf face. I miss you… come back soon_

Derek blinks. And then shoves his face into his pillow to muffle the giggles coming from him. He pulls his phone out and fires off a quick response to Cora, letting her know that everything is fine at his end, and to please check in with the crazy twins at some point in the next few hours to make sure Stiles hasn’t talked himself into a coma.

He sends only one text to Stiles.

Derek: _I miss you too Stiles. Even if you’re still the craziest sonofabitch I’ve ever met_

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~            

 

In the Stilinski kitchen, Stiles’ phone pings cheerfully. Balancing three pieces of peanut buttered toast in one hand and his phone in the other, he checks the message and cringes as he reads through his conversation history, embarrassment flushing his cheeks and ears a delicate pink.  

The Sheriff wanders into the kitchen and takes one look at his flustered, manic-eyed son, and raises an eyebrow at his toast juggling act before moving to get a fresh cup of coffee.

“I know that look.”

“You know nothing.”

“I’ve been raising you for the past seventeen years and you think I don’t know a thing or two? Please.”

Stiles feels his heart pounding uncomfortably, “Yeah? What do you know?”

“When you’ve taken too many meds and run out,” the Sheriff pours a generous dollop of cream into his coffee. “You look like a chipmunk that’s been shocked with a Taser,” he glances down to the toast, “With its cheeks full of food.”

“Hey I’m a growing teenage boy, what did you expect?”

“A more balanced meal with some veggies.”

“Are you calling me _fat_?”

The Sheriff scoffs, “Of course not. You’re a twig with moles and an overdeveloped sense of sarcasm.”

“One dollar for the rude jar!”

“We don’t have a rude jar you little turd.”

“Well… we _should_ have one!”

“Uh huh,” The Sheriff draws the word out, clearly unmoved. “So, what ever-so-healthy meal did we have planned for dinner on this fine evening?”

Stiles rolls his eyes and scarfs down a piece of toast, “No idea yet, captain Shakespeare.” Stiles takes a swig of coffee and continues on, “Genim has a date tonight so he won’t be here anyways.”

The Sheriff visibly perks up, “A date? Who’s the lucky girl?”

“Isaac.”

The Sheriff sighs and closes his eyes, clearly disappointed.

Stiles feels his anger begin to mount, “Hey, I hope that’s not a _problem_ for you dad.”

“What!? Of course not!” The Sheriff scoffs. “I suppose it just goes to follow that if one twin is gay then the other will be too. And it looks like I wasted the wrong safe-sex talk on the both of you.”

“ _Excuse me_ , but I am bisexual!” Stiles places his hands on his hips. “There’s a _huge_ difference!”

“Oh really?” asks the Sheriff, amused at his son’s indignation. “And what is that?”

“It means I can put my hands down someone’s pants and be happy with whatever I find.”

The Sheriff laughs into his coffee and ends up snorting it out his nose. Grasping for a towel while still choking out his coffee, he wheezes out thin laughter through his nose.

“Well,” continues Stiles. “I guess that’s not entirely true. I mean I wouldn’t be happy with finding like, an alligator down there or something.”

“Stiles why would someone have an alligator down their pants?”

“Hey, different strokes for different folks am I right?” Stiles grins winningly.

The Sheriff places his empty mug in the sink and turns to walk away, “Why did I get stuck with the crazy twin?”

“I prefer the term ‘intellectually eccentric’”

“I’m sure you do. Listen,” Stiles looks up at his father’s shifty tone. “If it’s okay with you, I was thinking of calling Bobby and seeing if he was interested in going for beers and a movie tonight. Are you cool with finding your own supper?”

“Totally! Yeah go ahead and have fun with your boyfriend!” Stiles cackles.

“And by supper I mean something _not_ an extra large deluxe pizza.”

“Well I was going to get Hawaiian but whatever.”

“ _Stiles_ -“

“Yeah, yeah, a healthy dinner I know,” grouses Stiles.

“Thank you.” The Sheriff grabs his jacket off the hook in the front hall, holsters his handgun, and calls out, “Don’t burn down the house while I’m gone!”

“RUDE!”

The door slams, leaving Stiles to sulk in his bisexually righteous indignation. Until his phone rings, the tinny notes of _Call Me Maybe_ filtering out through the speakers.

“Hello! Lydia my gorgeous redheaded banshee goddess!”

“Jackson is being a prissy little bitch. _Again_.”

“Oh. And this is new, how?”

“I never said it was a new development, just that it’s happened and he’s pissed me off.”

“Pissed off banshee goddess, got it. What can I do to help change that to happy banshee goddess?”

“Well if you’ll stop calling me that and go to get Froyo while we bitch about Jackson then you may be able to help me.”

“I’ll be ‘round to pick you up in fifteen minutes darling!”

“Good! Oh, and Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t wear plaid again honey. That shit went out of fashion with the 1970’s, and you can’t pull off the whole lumberjack look, so just don’t.”

“I wasn’t… wearing plaid,” Stiles looks down to his blue and green plaid shirt.

“Sure you weren’t sweetie. Just throw on a t-shirt and I’ll take you shopping for some new clothes.”

Stiles grins, noting the happy change to her voice, “What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn, darling.” And without further ado, she hangs up.

Stiles changes his clothes so fast he practically gets rug burn and, after grabbing his wallet from the kitchen counter, and rushes out the front door so quickly that he momentarily forgets he isn’t wearing shoes.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~            

 

Cora moves silently through the history section of Barnes and Noble, sifting through the post WWII history and Renaissance books. She picks up a book, advertising as the autobiography of some American war hero, and opens it up to flick through the pages.

She takes a deep breath, savoring the scent of musty books; she listens to the familiar squeak of running shoes on the linoleum floor; and she smells the delicate aroma of coffee drifting through the front doors from the Starbucks next door. The coffee smell gets stronger until she hears a pair of familiar voices making their way closer.

“I’m just saying, maybe if you dressed classier maybe he’d notice you more!”

“Well _I’m_ saying that he’s not likely to notice me anyways! I’m still mostly Scott’s walking encyclopedia tag-along! Really I just provide useful cooking tips and dry humour.”

Cora places the book back on the shelf and, smirking the entire time, pulls out her phone to text Derek.

Cora: _Hey so your bf is at the mall with me and I’m gonna go talk to him_

Derek: _No you won’t._

Cora: _I’m gonna tell him all your embarrassing childhood stories_

Derek: _Don’t you fucking dare_

Cora: _See it’s this kind of attitude that isn’t gonna get you laid, ttyl_

Derek: _CORA I SWEAR TO GOD YOU ARE DEAD TO ME_

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Mind if I join you?”

Stiles and Lydia look up from their frozen treats suspiciously.

“Why? Is there some sort of crisis?” asks Lydia, face drawn smooth with suspicion.

“No, I come in peace,” Cora grins wolfishly. “I also come with a multitude of embarrassing anecdotes of Derek’s childhood.”

“Have a seat!” gushes Stiles, pulling out her chair with a flourish.

Cora takes a delicate bite of her frozen yogurt and purses her lips, thinking about what story to impart on them first.

“Well I don’t really know where to start,” she muses. “Maybe from his younger escapades to when he’s older?”

Stiles snorts through a mouthful of frozen yogurt, “Sounds good to me.”

“Well I remember the first time mom and dad took all three of us to Boston Pizza, you know, the one up by the guitar shop? Anyways, we were all having a great time and us kids kept getting free refills with our chicken fingers right? So after mom and dad paid, we were all piling into the car and we’d _just_ pulled out onto the main road when Derek freezes and then starts to cry.” Cora giggles, enjoying the memory of her older brother’s terrified face.

“Why?” asks Lydia.

“Because we were all having such a good time that no one, not even Derek, noticed that he’d left with one of their cups. You know those cheap, plastic red ones they give all the kids? Well he was holding onto his and I remember dad joking with him and saying that they might have to turn him into the police for theft. So Derek started flat out bawling and saying like, ‘but I’m your only son! You can’t turn me into the cops!’ and oh my _god_! None of us ever let him live it down!”

Stiles bursts out laughing, imagining the look of utter fear on Derek’s small face, while Lydia snickers into her cup.

“Then there was the time me and Derek got sent to summer camp and we thought it’d be a _great_ idea to tie dye _all of our fucking clothes_.” Cora shrugs, smiling. “Needless to say, mom was not pleased in the least.”

“Oh my _god_!” says Stiles, picturing Derek’s grumpy face with bright rainbow colours on all his clothes. It’s inconceivable.

“Actually,” Cora’s brow furrows thoughtfully. “Derek cried over everything. And I mean like, _everything_. I remember when the Disney version of Beauty and the Beast came out on VHS and he cried when Beast died near the end.” Lydia giggles from her seat, amusement written into the laugh lines around her eyes. “He also cried at the zoo ‘cause he saw the wolves and thought they’d lock mom in there with them. Oh, and Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Promise me you’ll ask Derek about The Spaghetti Incident. If only to see his reaction.”

“That… sounds slightly ominous.”

Cora glances up, eyes tinged amber, and chuckles.

“What about embarrassing photos? Videos?” asks Lydia, deceptively calm.

“Well we had plenty before the fire, but now we’ve got precious few materials for blackmail.”

“Oh… like what?” Lydia covers her awkward question by delicately spooning up the last of the melted yogurt.

“Well he had this whole rockstar phase where he wanted to be the most famous musician in history. So he set up the living room with dad’s old mic stand, pushed the couches in a circle so it looked like he was performing in front of a concert, and then played ‘That Old Time of Rock’n’Roll’ by Bob Seager.” Cora glances over at Stiles, who is doubled over his Froyo cup and shaking with laughter. “Then mom managed to snap a picture of him in his tighty whities rockin’ out with dad’s aviators on in the main room.” Stiles and Lydia collapse into a giggling fit. “He still has no idea where the photo is!” she crows.

“Jesus _Christ_ he’s like the most awkwardly adolescent werewolf to ever be!” laughs Stiles.

“Oh don’t I know it! I grew up with the guy!”

“You _have_ to show me this picture sometime!”

“Ask, and ye shall receive.”

Lydia manages to pull herself together enough to ask, “What about school stuff?”

“Well he somehow managed to kill the class, Bucky the hamster, pet back in the third grade. We’re still not entirely sure how that happened,” She pauses as Stiles and Lydia break out into peals of laughter. “I mean he was totally devastated but he was sent to the guidance office _so_ many times after that shit went down because the teachers thought he was a psychopath or something!”

“Holy _shit_ – “ Stiles coughs.

 “And it didn’t really help his case that he had an unfortunate tendency to growl at the kids who weren’t sharing toys or crayons with him.”

Stiles and Lydia howl with laughter, clutching their stomachs.

Cora wheezes, her own laughing causing a stitch in her side, “And, oh my god, you know how there’s different strains of Wolfsbane right?”

“Yeah,” says Stiles, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Well we used to grow some of the medicinal kind in our vegetable garden before the fire. And by ‘medicinal’ I mean, the _good_ stuff,” she winks conspiratorially in their direction. “Anyways, he mistook it for the carrot leaves right beside it and ended up eating a ton of it. So we came out an hour later to see him sitting in the grass, high as a fucking kite, just staring as his fingers and whispering,” Cora pauses for dramatic effect, lifting her hands up and spreading her fingers, “ _how?_ ”

The three of them burst into loud guffaws at the mental image, trying to reconcile the stoic and serious Derek of now with the crying, high, snot nosed kid of the past, until Lydia looks behind Cora’s left shoulder and her eyes harden.

“So I take it those two guys in the questionably camouflaged gear behind you aren’t some of yours?” Lydia hands Cora her tiny makeup mirror to glance behind her.

Cora’s eyes shimmer, hard and flinty, amber barely lining the rim of her irises before she casually returns the mirror to Lydia.

“Hey, I think those are the hunters who met Genim and I in the grocery store this weekend,” says Stiles, calmly stirring the melted slop of yogurt in his cup.

“What say we get out of here?” asks Cora. They glance back, the hunters trying and failing to look inconspicuous. “ _Pronto_?”

“Going, going, and gone!” Stiles scoops up the trash from their table, disposes of it, grabs their loot from shopping, and offers an arm to each girl before they saunter quickly out of the food court.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Genim are you sure there’s supposed to be _this_ many pigeons around here?” Isaac asks nervously, eyeing the multitude of birds inching closer to their bread source.

“Totally!” Genim throws another handful of breadcrumbs, “I am their master and commander!”

However, his dramatic monologue is ruined when a stray pigeon shits on his head, causing Isaac to bite his lip to keep his laughter in check while he turns purple.

“Aw man!” Genim closes his eyes, his cheeks flushing with mortification.

“It’s okay! Let me help you with that,” comforts Isaac, pulling a Kleenex out of his pocket to wipe the mess from Genim’s hair. He keeps one hand gently cupping Genim’s jaw, while the other carefully wipes the poop from his date’s hair.

“Thanks man,” Genim says quietly, his hands moving to hold Isaac’s hips close.

“No problem,” Isaac flushes, and then draws himself up with a smirk. “Why don’t we go get some ice cream and ditch these shit bombing birds?” Without waiting for an answer, Isaac takes hold of Genim’s hand and leads him towards the tiny ice cream cart where the elderly vendor is selling his wares to the kids playing at the playground.

“Hi kids! What can I get for ya?” the man smiles pleasantly, his eyes crinkling.

“Hi, can we please get a double scoop vanilla cone?”

“Sure thing, two?”

“Nah we’ll share,” says Isaac.

The vendor looks down at their joined hands and chuckles, doling out the scoops of ice cream and piling them carefully into the waffle cone, “Kids these days don’t usually know how to have a _real_ romantic outing! Why, when I was your age we still went rollerblading and had milkshakes back at that diner on Third Street!” He pulls out two napkins and wraps the cone in them before handing it over, “It’s nice to see real romance being brought back! That’ll be two-fifty please.”

Isaac smiles and flushes prettily in the sunlight, his auburn curls falling down over his eyes. Genim looks over and smiles up at him, carefully taking the cone while Isaac hands over the money to the vendor. The man smiles and bids them farewell – turning back to the group of young children congregating around him – and Isaac drapes an arm over Genim’s shoulder as they walk amongst the trees, sharing the ice cream cone back and forth as they talk quietly.

Soon though, their hands are sticky and their mouths are full of the taste of vanilla, especially pronounced in the abundance of kisses shared between them.

The arcade proves a hilarious distraction due to Genim’s inability to keep his feet coordinated with the DDR screen and Isaac's legs being too long and gangly for any real dancing. The small crowd they attract is friendly and encouraging – even if they’re only there to watch the awkward teenagers flail around and laugh on the dance pad – and before long the two boys are flushed and bent over the railings for support, laughing too hard to stand properly on their own.

Genim glances down at his watch and realizes the drive-in theater on the edge of town doesn’t open for another two hours. He quickly pulls out his phone and fires off a text to Boyd while Isaac is in the washroom, asking for a quick date idea. Boyd –ever the resourceful werewolf – recommends the tiny strawberry farm owned by one of the local families at the edge of town, who frequently lets the Beacon Hills residents come and pay to pick their own strawberries for a small fee.

Isaac comes out of the washroom just as Genim finishes sending out a thank you text to Boyd, and hooks his arm around Isaac's waist while he leads him back to the parking lot. He also sends a silent thank you to his twin for having the foresight to offer him the use of the jeep for his date, having gotten back from the mall just in time for Genim to go pick up Isaac from the Hale house.

“How do you feel about strawberries?”

“Um… they’re pretty and tasty?”

“Good.”

“I’m starting to see how you and Stiles are related,” Isaac says, shaking his head fondly.

“Please don’t mention my idiotic twin when we’re in a romantic situation. It feels vaguely like incest,” Isaac laughs at Genim, who shivers dramatically for effect.

“Well alright,” Isaac buckles himself into his seat. “So, where are we going?”

“Strawberry picking! We’ll need some snacks for the movie tonight so I figured organic is the way to go!”

“You’re so fucking weird.”

“And you love it babe.”

“I really do,” Isaac says softly.

They hold hands all the way to the McGregor’s farm, watching the trees and green fields pass by out the windows, open to the breeze and blowing gently through their hair. Genim looks over at Isaac, seeing his carefree and relaxed face, upturned to the sun and casually scenting the air.

“So I guess it would be in poor taste to make a dog joke about you hanging your head out the window right?”

“Only if I get to poke fun at how tiny you are, short person.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault I’m out on a date with a gorgeous and exceptionally tall werewolf!”

Isaac just throws his head back and smiles, closing his eyes against the sun peeking through the few clouds in the sky.

They pull into the driveway of the farm, following a long and winding dirt road all the way down to the car park beside an enormous red barn. The house stands beside it, a classic old farmhouse with shutters and a porch that wraps around the entire front of the building, complete with a swinging chair hanging from the balcony. Genim parks the jeep beside an old, dusty pickup truck and hops out, scrambling around to the other side of the vehicle to open Isaac’s door for him. The young werewolf kisses the tip of Genim’s nose, and saunters off towards the small stand where Mrs. McGregor is taking the money and handing out green plastic baskets: smelling the heady, sweet aroma of sun-warmed strawberries drifting from the field. Genim hands her the requisite five dollars and they get a large basket to take with them to the field.

Isaac grabs Genim’s hand and leads them towards where the field meets the tree line, the berries large and ripe and unmolested by other pickers.

“So, can you smell which ones are ripe?” asks Genim, avidly watching his date’s nose twitch in the warm, muggy air.

“Kinda,” shrugs Isaac. “It’s hard to explain, but it’s sort of like when you smell cookies baking and you can just tell when they’re done, you know?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Genim glances down at the berries curiously. “What can you smell out here away from the city?”

“Everything,” sighs Isaac. “Everything is clearer here, not as many fumes from cars and buses and stuff. I can smell the different kinds of trees, all the horses and cows from the barn, and I can even smell the strawberry-rhubarb pie baking in the McGregor’s kitchen!”

“Oh my _god_ her pies are legendary! Did you know she used to sell them at the farmer’s market in the summers before the city cracked down on their public gathering laws?”

“No way!”

“Yeah! I mean they all used to set up tents and stalls and stuff down by the old grain mill near the park. But then the city decided the building needed to be condemned because it wasn’t safe, so they were all kicked off the property and couldn’t find anywhere else to sell their stuff.” Genim sighs wistfully, “Mom used to take Stiles and I there to get butter tarts and apple turnovers after school if we got an A on a test or an assignment.”

Isaac remains silent, seeing the soft and unguarded look on his date’s face, and then pulls him close for a hug. His hands come to rest on the small of Genim’s back, while he buries his nose in the crook of his neck, inhaling the unique scent and providing comfort. Genim leans into the touch, grateful for the physical comfort, and tucks his head under Isaac’s chin. Feeling bold, Genim gently scrapes his teeth along Isaac’s collarbone and feels the wolf shudder under his ministrations.

He grins up at Isaac’s flushed face, wondering if this is how the young wolf looks when he comes, his grin widens lecherously, “I think we should actually start picking berries or we might be kicked out for starting something in a public place.”

Isaac chuckles, and they bend down to pick the plump, juicy fruits. They end up talking, really talking, about anything and everything. Isaac asks for stories about what it was like to grow up with Stiles, and what kind of crazy pranks they got up to. Genim asks if Isaac had any siblings, and what his favourite thing to do with them was. Isaac broaches the subject of the Claudia, the twins’ mom, and her vicious battle with cancer and Genim’s subsequent move to Fresno in the wake of her death. Genim cautiously asks about Isaac’s dad, wary of scaring him, and if he regrets how his life turned out.

With each question that passes their lips, a strawberry is placed in their basket. And with each answer, another strawberry is placed beside it. They spend the rest of the afternoon there – picking berries and trading their most intimate secrets – until the sun is dipping below the horizon, washing the field in warm hues of gold and scarlet, bringing out the vivid crimson of the strawberries littering the field. They bid farewell to Mrs. McGregor, the strawberries are placed in the backseat of the jeep, and the boys take turns using the hose beside the barn to wash the sticky juice from their fingers.

They head over to the drive-in theater and choose a secluded spot further away from the other cars. The front seat is lowered to provide a footrest while the boys recline in the back, the basket of luscious strawberries between them, while they feed each other by hand.

The first movie ends, and another film begins, and old black and white film with cheesy one-liners and classical romance. Eventually, the last few strawberries become far more interesting than the movie, and their attention is diverted to each other. Legs press against each other, hands trace sculpted jawlines, and sticky fingers linger in hot, wet mouths.

Isaac’s breath comes in harsh and low, his chest heaving and his jeans far too tight, Genim’s spicy scent washing over him comfortably.

“Is this okay?” asks Genim, clearly worried about overstepping his boundaries.

“Oh god yes,” moans Isaac. This is apparently all the approval Genim needs, so he smoothly moves to straddle Isaac’s lap, grinding down onto the hard line of the werewolf’s clothed cock.

Isaac’s hand moves to press against the small of Genim’s back, his middle and index fingers dipping past the waistband of the human’s pants, to slide down between his ass cheeks. His tentativeness is short lived as Genim moans loudly enough that Isaac takes a moment to be supremely grateful for the distance from the other moviegoers. In response, Genim places his forehead against Isaac’s, and slowly rolls his hips down against the wolf. Isaac jerks in shock, his forehead smacking into Genim’s, and they both chuckle at each other sheepishly.

Ever so slowly, gazing into each other’s eyes, they build a steady and torturous rhythm. Isaac rocking his hips up as Genim rolls his hips down, creating a slow burn of white-hot pleasure building up in their groins. Beads of sweat drip slowly down Genim’s face to trail smoothly down his long neck, while Isaac’s auburn curls stick wetly to his forehead. Genim smiles and leans down to press his mouth to Isaac’s, nipping at his lips for permission. Isaac’s eyes close as he groans and his hips jerk unsteadily, his mouth pliant and yielding and oh-so- _hot_. Genim’s tongue traces delicately along the werewolf’s teeth, feeling the slightly pronounced canines protruding from his upper jaw, while Isaac’s tongue dances out to slide sensuously against his.

Still kissing, Genim reaches down between them to pop the button and unzip Isaac’s jeans enough to free his cock. It springs out from his underwear, long and slender and gorgeous, flushed a deep red at the head with pearls of precome oozing out. Genim licks his lips and grips the shaft delicately, pumping experimentally, feeling the hardness and the smooth ridges of Isaac’s cock. Isaac moans wantonly into Genim’s shoulder, and slides his own hand down to return the favour. And suddenly, their cocks are aligned and nothing is between them, and the friction is _glorious_.

“Hey, you still with me?” asks Genim.

“Yeah,” says Isaac breathlessly.

“Good,” Genim smiles, “Lend a hand?”

Without further ado, Genim brings his hand up to lick a wet stripe down the middle, and returns his newly slicked hand to their cocks. Isaac pulls his hand away from Genim’s cock long enough to do the same before wrapping his hand around Genim’s as they begin to stroke together. The combined precome leaking from their cocks slick the way further, the glide and pull of pleasure burning low in their guts.

Isaac is the first to come, eyes scrunched shut and his mouth open in a silent prayer, his cock jerking once, twice, and then stripes of hot, white come paint his t-shirt. Genim laughs triumphantly, exalting in his partner’s pleasure, before Isaac gathers his bearings enough to flick the tip of his finger over the slit of Genim’s cock and that’s it; Genim is shuddering and coming apart on top of Isaac and laughing happily the entire time.

They slump against each other contentedly, Isaac snuffling into Genim’s hair, enjoying the mingling scents and sounds of the night air mixing with their pleasure. Genim sighs happily and snuggles closer.

“So I’m totally thinking we should do this again,” he says.

“What? The orgasms or the date?” teases Isaac gently.

“Both. Both is definitely good,” Genim grins dopily, bringing his head up enough to kiss Isaac sweetly, oh so sweetly.

 _Yes_ , thinks Genim, cuddling closer to Isaac, _sweet indeed_.  


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Derek has naughty dreams, Genim gives pearls of wisdom to his twin, and bitter Mario Kart tournaments are fought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW! This chapter took so fucking long because of exams and exhaustion so I apologize for the wait! BUT, there is delicious smut to be had and also some good, long-awaited fluff ;)

Derek looks down from his seat through the hazy amber light filtering through the open window to the two boys kneeling in front of him. He barely registers the fact that he’s naked, and instead focuses on trying to determine the identities of the forms in front of him. Slowly, the haze wavers out and the slender bodies start to solidify.

Milky pale skin and long, tapered fingers grip the edge of the couch, a matching constellation of moles dotting the familiar torsos. Derek’s gaze slides down their bodies to see the only articles of clothing on them: the tight, crimson briefs outlining their groins and highlighting the bony hips protruding from the underwear, the heads of their hard cocks barely peeking out over the top of the fabric.

 _The twins_.

Derek groans, long and low, and throws his head back. He arches his back as he feels fingers ghosting up his sides, soft mouths tracing a path up his thighs to the center of his body, already straining at attention.

“ _Derek_ ,” they whisper. “ _Look at us, look at how we’re touching you. So gorgeous, writhing and moaning for us. Only us_.”

Derek unclenches his fists and opens his eyes, looking down at the twins, kneeling and beautiful and flushed at his feet, staring up at him from beneath their long lashes. Stiles is the first to move, bringing his head down to slowly lick a hot, wet stripe up the length of Derek’s cock, Genim watching avidly from beside him. Unable to wait his turn, Genim nibbles along Stiles’ neck, moving along his twin’s jaw, to mouth at Derek’s balls. Stiles releases Derek from his mouth and moves to lick up the vein traveling up the underside, while his twin moves to flick his tongue torturously along the tip, playing with the slit.

Derek’s chest heaves – trying desperately to keep his ragged breathing in check – and watches the twins lave careful attention all over his cock. He listens to the moans, the gasps, and the whimpers, all while smelling the heady musk of arousal permeating the air. Releasing his grip on the couch, Derek brings his hands up to place one on each of the twins’ heads, guiding their movements along his shaft. Gentle whimpers and moans weave through the air as he gently tugs their hair in time with the licking of their tongues.

Using his right hand to softly bring Stiles’ face away from his cock, and somehow he just _knows_ this one is Stiles, Derek traces the boy’s lips with his thumb before dipping the digit into the plush mouth. Stiles moans as Derek’s finger moves past his pink lips, his teeth scraping gently over the pads of the alpha’s fingers. Derek growls low in his throat at the bite, his instincts pleased with the display.

Genim suddenly pulls off Derek’s cock with a wet pop, moving to nip along the hand that is in Stiles’ mouth. The twins glance over at each other quickly, and then their attention simultaneously shifts to Derek’s flushed face, looking ready to devour him.

“ _You’ve been such a good boy Derek,_ ” purrs Genim.

“ _And good boys get rewarded_ ,” whispers Stiles.

Derek feels the pleasure slide down his spine like a trail of fire and his balls tighten in anticipation. Genim moves away and fluidly stands up; removing the vibrant red briefs tantalizingly slow, and licks his lips seductively. Stiles moves to kneel between Derek’s legs and then – hooking his hands under Derek’s knees to pull Derek to the edge of the couch – heaves Derek up onto his feet to lead him towards the table. Derek’s gaze slides down Stiles’ lithe body, admiring the moles and the lean muscles pulling deliciously against bone. Stiles grins widely and sits himself up on the table, his legs spread wide, and crooks a finger at Derek invitingly.

Without hesitation, Derek moves in so that his groin is cradled in the circle of Stiles’ hips, the friction of the human’s crimson briefs rubbing sinfully smooth against Derek’s cock. Stiles’ mouth opens in a wide O, panting gently as Derek steadily rubs his cock against Stiles’ clothed erection. Derek quickly loses himself in the pleasurable sensations created by the slow burn and drag of the fabric between his and Stiles’ cock, his balls thrumming with energy and hanging heavy between his legs.

Derek is shocked out of his haze of pleasure by a long, slender finger making its way down the column of his spine, cool lube dripping down and leaving a torturous trail of ice in its wake. The wolf gasps as a lubed finger dips between his ass cheeks, spreading them just enough to press against the tight furl of his hole.

“ _So tight,_ ” Genim whispers, breath tickling Derek’s ear, “ _We’ll just have to open you right up, now won’t we?_ ”

“ _Get you all nice and wet,_ ” Stiles nips at Derek’s chin, “ _So he can just slide on in_.”

Derek whines low in his throat, and gasps as a finger is slowly but steadily eased into him. His ass clenches around the intrusion, and he bucks, not knowing whether to seek pleasure from in front or behind. Stiles grabs Derek by the hips to pull him closer, dragging his teeth gently along the wolf’s collarbone while his twin continues to prep him from behind. With every gentle push into his ass, Derek thrusts forward onto Stiles’ clothed cock, listening to the younger boy’s soft, breathy gasps. Soon, one finger becomes two, and two becomes three, and Derek is incoherent through his lust. He watches as a single drop of perspiration slowly slides down from Stiles’ long, elegant neck to trace his lean pectorals. His breath hitches as Genim drags a finger slowly over his prostate, pleasure crackling like lightening up his spine, his toes curling happily.

Genim withdraws his fingers, much to Derek’s moue of displeasure, and kisses the wolf’s shoulder softly.

“ _Ready Big Boy?_ ”

Too far gone in his pleasure, Derek can only nod enthusiastically.

Slicking up his cock, Genim lines up with Derek’s entrance and pushes in slowly, the head sliding in past the ring of muscle to glide smoothly in to the hilt. Genim hisses as the tight heat envelops his cock, and watches as Derek’s pink hole flutters around him, gripping him unforgivingly.

“ _You alright babe?_ ” asks Stiles, gently scratching his fingers through Derek’s stubble.

“ _Yes, god yes,_ ” moans Derek.

Derek opens his eyes in time to see the twins lock lips over his right shoulder, their tongues sliding together obscenely, the red of their lips contrasting delicately with the porcelain of their skin. Stiles breaks away to slide down to latch on to Derek’s neck, working a vivid hickey into the warm skin, while Genim picks up the pace and begins to thrust in earnest. Derek feels the hot slide of cock up his ass, and the wet slapping of Genim’s balls against him, and thrusts forward to grind against Stiles’ crotch. With every hard thrust into the werewolf, Derek’s cock slides deliciously against Stiles’ briefs, listening to the human’s breathless moans.

Then suddenly, a hot spark of pleasure dances up Derek’s spine, Genim’s cock striking his prostate with deadly accuracy. Derek cries out in surprise and lurches forward to rest his forehead against Stiles’. Faster and faster the thrusts come, Genim placing one hand on Derek’s hip and the other hooking onto the wolf’s left shoulder, and Derek feels like he’s about two seconds away from exploding out of his skin. Stiles scratches his nails down Derek’s side, leaving a trail of thin pink lines scoring delicately down his ribs. Genim’s thrusts continue erratically, his hips stuttering as his orgasm approaches.

And then suddenly: he’s slamming wetly into Derek’s ass and coming, the scent of fresh come hitting Derek’s nose like a tsunami. Derek slides a single finger down the cleft of Stiles’ ass to gently circle the puckered skin and Stiles cries out, the tip of his cock spitting out pearls of come from the tip of his cock, still peeking out the top of his briefs, as his climax washes over him. The combined scents of the twins’ come is too much for Derek’s sensitive nose to handle and, with a cock still up his ass and a pair of sticky briefs rubbing against his groin, comes with a hoarse yell, his voice breaking as his cock spills hot strings of come onto Stiles’ bare chest.

Derek closes his eyes, listening to the sounds of the thunderous heartbeats beating desperately against his back and his front. He feels Genim’s softening cock slide out of his ass as the human pulls away, still keeping a possessive hand on Derek’s hip as Stiles gently drags his hand soothingly up and down Derek’s other side.

The twins chuckle ominously.

**_I CAME IN LIKE A WRECKKKKINNNGGGGGG BAAAAAAAAALLLL!_ **

Derek jerks awake so fast he falls off his bed, the sheets tangling around his sweaty body and pinning him to the floor. He glances down at his dick, and soaked boxers, glaring at it accusingly before he fumbles on the nightstand for his ringing cellphone.

“ _Who the fuck is this,_ ” growls Derek.

“Only you would be able to turn a question into a threat,” Stiles voice filters through the phone cheerily. “And still sound so darn _cute!_ ”

Derek’s heart thumps loudly, still painfully aware of the sticky mess in his boxers and the vivid dream still lingering in his mind, “Stiles! What the- Why- Jesus Christ why are you calling me so early?” He tries to untangle the sheets around his legs, flailing and uncoordinated, but to no avail.

“Early?” Stiles asks incredulously, “Dude it’s almost noon! I was just calling to see when you were heading back today ‘cause Cora’s been trying to turn Peter into her bitch and my delightful other half has defiled one of your baby betas and Scott walked in on Erica and Boyd doing the do in the laundry room and-“

“Okay, okay, _okay!_ ” Derek scrubs a hand over his face wearily. “ _Jesus_ I leave the house for a few days and everything falls apart.”

“No not fall apart,” chuckles Stiles. “More like people’s legs fall open.”

Derek feels his face burn hotly at the innuendo, “ _Stiles_ -”

“Alright, alright, keep your shirt on Sourwolf,” Stiles’ voice drops comfortingly, “Everyone just really misses you is all.”

Derek freezes, a warm burst of affection spreading throughout his body at Stiles’ words, “Thanks. It’s weird to be in another pack’s den.”

“Is it?” asks Stiles. “I thought it’d be more familiar for you, you know, what with having more wolves around.”

“Wolves: yes, pack: no.” Derek lies back and shimmies out of his soiled underwear, tossing it into the empty duffel at the end of the bed, sitting amidst the nest of blankets in the nude. “It’s not the same scent here… it doesn’t feel like _home_.”  His heart twinges longingly.

“Well hurry up and get home then,” Stiles murmurs, his voice soft and close. “I miss- _we_ all miss you here.” Stiles coughs softly to hide the honesty of his slip of the tongue.

“Yeah,” says Derek. “I miss you too. “

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Soooooooo, how was your date?”

“Oh my _god_ , it was _magical_!” Genim coos sarcastically.

“Jesus _fine_ be an asshole,” grouses Stiles, turning back to cutting the crusts off his sandwich.

Sensing genuine hurt, Genim winces, “Sorry, I thought you were being sarcastic.”

“Dude, Isaac is my friend. I wanna know if you two legitimately hit it off or if it was a bust.”

“Oh,” Genim stills, his hand holding a slice of cheese halfway to his face. “It was actually… kinda amazing.” Stiles looks over at his twin in time to see the soft expression on Genim’s face.

Stiles smiles gently, “Well alright then. Guess I don’t have to get out the shotgun to protect your virtue.”

“Nah, ain’t got no virtue to protect,” Genim says casually, stuffing the piece of cheese into his mouth.

Stiles’ eyes widen comically, “What!?”

“Yeah we kinda went from first base and skipped right through to third on the first date,” Genim looks up and offhandedly says, “Does that make me a slut?”

“Ay! No slut-shaming here!” Stiles waves the butter knife around indignantly. “As long as you guys both consented and had happy fun naked times then there’s no shame in that.”

“Amen to that brother,” grins Genim, wiggling his fingers lasciviously.

“Just make sure to let Derek know you’re pack by association now. Well,” Stiles smirks, “I mean you _did_ kinda sleep your way into the pack.”

“Ay! You said no slut-shaming!” gripes Genim.

“I’m not slut-shaming, just pointing out a fact there baby bro,” Stiles giggles.

“At least one of us is getting some.”

“ _What_.”

“You heard me bitch,” Genim takes a sip of his orange juice, leveling Stiles with a steady stare over the rim of the glass. “What’s with all the unresolved sexual tension between you and our fearless alpha?”

Stiles turns a very fetching shade of pink and turns back to prepping his sandwich, “Nothing. He’d never be interested in a scrawny, annoying twig like me anyhow.”

“Yeah I call bullshit.”

Stiles sighs, frustrated, “Why does everyone seem to think he’s interested in me? It seems like he barely tolerates me!”

Genim scoffs, “Not true. He’s barely able to tolerate his super gross mushy feelings for you. There’s a difference.”

“And that difference is?”

“Well Isaac was telling me about all the things you do for the pack-“

“And what does this have to do with anything?”

Genim glares, irritated with the interruption, “It _means_ , darling brother, that you’ve got another point of view to consider.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, _Oh_ ,” Genim pours himself some more orange juice as Stiles brings his food to the table. “Apparently _everyone_ in the pack calls you when Derek isn’t around and they need help.”

“Because they’re useless puppies without Derek there to corral them.”

“Or, because you’re the second in command and they’re deferring to you, because technically, the second is usually the alpha’s mate.”

“Wait, what?” Stiles blanches.

“Yeah, Isaac was saying that it’s all intricate wolf hierarchies and inter-pack relationships and stuff. Usually the second in command is the one the alpha trusts the most so, ergo, it’s usually the alpha’s mate.”

“You’re… being serious?” Stiles’ voice is uncharacteristically quiet, soft and unsure.

Genim, noting his twin’s vulnerability, reassures him, “Yeah. It’s obvious to anyone with half a brain that he’s totally in love with you. He just doesn’t seem the type to go for what he wants.”

Stiles’ brows furrow, confused, “What do you mean?”

“This is a guy who deliberately dated a hunter, even if he didn’t know what she was, and had his whole family murdered by an ex-girlfriend with a superiority complex and an unhealthy love of fire,” Genim stacks his bread crusts in a pile on his plate. “He just doesn’t seem like the kind of person who believes he deserves the things he wants.”

Stiles mechanically chews a bite of his sandwich, lost in thought, “But what if you’re wrong?”

Genim looks into Stiles’ eyes, “But what if I’m _right_?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Stiles contemplates Genim’s words on the drive to the Hale house, his twin respecting the weighted silence between them and driving along the winding forest road silently. They arrive and make their way to the front door, only to be tackled to the floor by an overly enthusiastic Isaac. Stiles laughs and wiggles his way out from underneath the ecstatic beta, turning to watch his twin and the wolf squirm and tickle each other on the floor. Erica and Boyd walk through the doorway, and they share a groan with Stiles over the disgusting cuteness overflowing from the happy couple.

Leaving them to their shenanigans in the hallway, Stiles follows the sounds of crashing and yelling in the rec room and walks in to a scene of pure carnage as Cora races against Lydia and Allison on the old N64 Mario Kart game, the three of them sitting cross-legged on the floor with bare feet. Cora swears once more as her Toad dejectedly crosses the finish line in eighth place, Lydia and Allison scoring in the top two spots triumphantly.

“Wow,” says Stiles. “I had no idea it was possible to lose that badly.”

“ _Fuck you Stilinski_ ,” snarls Cora.

“I mean come on! You _had_ to know you’d lose racing with fucking _Toad_ of all characters!”

“Hey! Toad is my lucky character!”

“Oh _hon_ ,” Stiles coos, hands on his hips. “That explains everything.”

Cora narrows her eyes dangerously, “You wanna put your fucking money where your mouth is?”

“Lady wolf,” purrs Stiles. “It would be my _genuine_ pleasure.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

He’s _home_.

Derek walks through the front door, taking in the familiar scents and relaxing, before an ear splitting scream rents the air.

Followed by a truly filthy string of obscenities.

“ _GOD FUCKING DAMMIT STILES YOU LITTLE SHITSTAIN I WILL END YOU!_ ”

Maniacal laughter, followed by, “LIKE YOU FINISHED THE RACE?”

Derek blinks.

And then makes his way into the rec room only to be treated to a truly outrageous sight. Cora holding Stiles down and tickling him mercilessly, Stiles laughing helplessly under the onslaught, Erica and Boyd snickering from the loveseat while Genim sits on Isaac’s lap in the armchair, with Scott guffawing at he sprawls between Allison and Lydia on the couch.

Derek snorts, the corners of his mouth turning up happily, “Ten bucks says Cora can’t win with _any_ of the characters in the entire game.”

Derek feels the warm blossom of affection curl through his entire body as Stiles nearly knocks Cora over in his haste to get up and over to Derek, the young human’s eyes glimmering a bright and clear amber in the afternoon sunlight.

“My _hero_!” he gushes dramatically, hiding behind Derek and placing his hands on Derek’s waist so he can stand on his toes to peek over the alpha’s shoulder. “Oh _darling_! Save me from your psycho sister!”

Derek feels his cheeks heat up at the possessive curl of Stiles’ hands over his hipbones, his instincts settling happily at the display and rumbling in pleasure at being able to protect the human.

“Hey, does Derek even know how to play Mario Kart?” asks Erica, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

Derek coughs awkwardly, “Well enough.”

“Well come on!” Stiles squeezes down on Derek’s hips, “You can be on my team and Cora can have Genim!” And then he grabs Derek’s duffle bag and goes to put it in the laundry room, chattering happily about the comings and goings of the pack in the alpha’s absence. Derek’s heart clenches at the familiar scent of clean soap and warm cologne wafting gently off of Stiles and he subtly scents the air as Stiles passes by to get some leftovers from the fridge. It’s only after Stiles puts mustard on the thick-cut ham sandwich that Derek realizes it’s for _him_ , Stiles hates the yellow condiment after all, and his instincts coil up tight and hot within him with a smug possessiveness. Stiles is making food and _providing_ for him and _his_ pack.

Derek shivers delightedly.

Stiles hands him the sandwich and moves to get some cans of soda from the fridge, piling them precariously onto a tray and opening an industrial size bag of chips into a large plastic bowl to feed the hungry wolves playing boisterously in the living room. Derek bites into the sandwich and almost moans at the taste, keeping his eyes fixed on Stiles moving deftly around the kitchen, his lithe form moving around the kitchen with ease and comfort. Stiles ends up beside Derek to reach up towards the topmost shelf of the cupboard for smaller bowls for dip, stretching up onto the tips of his toes and not quite reaching the shelf. Derek places his sandwich on the counter and turns around to help, placing a steadying hand on the small of Stiles’ back and reaching up to grab three colourful bowls from the shelf.

He looks down into Stiles’ wide, amber eyes and watches the delicate wash of pink flush over the human’s cheeks, his moles standing in sharp relief to the otherwise pale skin.

Derek swallows.

Stiles’ eyes flick down to his throat.

Derek hands Stiles the bowls – never breaking eye contact – and gently reaches around him to grab his sandwich.

“Come on,” he rasps, Derek’s throat gone bone dry.

“Ye- Yeah!” Stiles stutters, looking flushed and more than a little frantic.

Hours later, they end up crammed side-by-side on the floor with their backs to the couch, Lydia playing with Stiles’ grown-out hair and Scott keeping a solid hand clamped onto Derek’s shoulder for solidarity. Genim and Cora sit further apart, but focus intensely on the screen, Genim shouting profanities every time Cora screws up or gets lost. Nobody pays attention to Derek throughout the entire tournament – except for Stiles, whose entire right side burns pleasantly at the full contact of their bodies throughout the races – until he blasts past everyone with a golden mushroom on the final lap and streaks ahead to claim the coveted first place spot on the awards’ stand.

Stiles slumps against Derek as his character zips past the finish line in second place, shocked at the sudden turn of events.

“ _DUDE_ ,” crows Stiles. “We totally fucking _owned_ this!” Stiles grins happily and leans his head against Derek’s shoulder.

Derek feels the heat creep high up onto his cheekbones, flustered at the sudden closeness and the warmth of Stiles’ body against his skin. He turns his head minutely to the side and discreetly inhales the subtle scent of soap, spicy cologne, and the fresh scent of the lemon dish soap kept under the sink. The corners of Derek’s mouth quirk up as he scents the smell of pack and den and _home_ mixed with Stiles’ signature scent, and he smiles.

Until Stiles looks up, all wide doe eyes and flushed cheeks, and Derek’s heart thumps painfully in his chest. Listening closely, he hears Stiles’ heart beating a rapid staccato beat sounding in tandem with his own. Derek watches as Genim smacks Isaac’s thigh affectionately and moves to get up.

“Come on Steelies,” grouses Genim, Isaac gently steadying him as he gets up. “We promised daddio we’d all eat together tonight, remember?”

Stiles sighs, and stretches languidly against Derek’s side, “Yeah I guess so… lemme just clean up the dishes.”

Completely without thinking, Derek reaches up and places his hands on Stiles’ hips to help him up. Startled, Stiles flails and falls over… and right into Derek’s lap.

Derek inhales sharply at the feel of Stiles’ pert ass grinding against his crotch, and flushes as he remembers that morning’s _very_ not-safe-for-work dream. Stiles chokes on nothing and – looking about two seconds away from a panic attack – uses Derek’s shoulders for leverage to get up, effectively placing their faces mere inches away from each other. Wide amber eyes meet with dark, heated, tortoiseshell irises, and Stiles’ breath hitches.

The moment is broken when he feels Derek curl a hand possessively around his right hip to help him stand, and Stiles’ mouth goes dry as he realizes that Derek is rubbing gentle circles into his skin with his thumb. Stiles stands on wobbly legs and quickly cleans up the pack mess as everyone piles into the hallway to grab their sweaters and purses and shoes, and he shakily stands on a small step stool to put the chips away at the top shelf with the dip bowls.

Quickly washing his hands, Stiles runs into the front hall to retrieve his shoes and catch up.

Of course, when he opens the door, Derek is waiting for him right outside.

“Stiles.”

“Hey! _Woah_!” Stiles clutches his heart, his pulse racing. “Warn a guy before you decide to shave ten years off his life!”

Derek winces, “Sorry.”

“No biggie,” Stiles smiles reassuringly. “So, how did the inter-pack meeting go?”

“As well as can be expected, given the history between them and the Hale pack,” Derek shrugs. “Mostly I’m just glad to be back home with our pack.”

Stiles grins happily, “ _Our_ pack?”

Derek flushes scarlet to the tips of his ears, “ _The_ pack! Not _our_ \- shit I didn’t mean for that to come out that way! I only meant- _fuck_!”

“Dude! Chill!” Stiles’ eyes crinkle at the corners as he watches Derek work himself up into a tizzy. “I know what you meant.”

“I know, I just- “ Derek runs a hand through his hair, frustrated with the conversation. “It’s good to be back with the pack and with _you_ and your crazy ass antics.”

“… Thanks?”

“… You, totally don’t remember sending me those texts yesterday do you?”

“Uh… maybe?” Stiles pulls his phone out and whips through the previous day’s texts frantically. “I just know I had some trouble sleeping last night and I wanted to talk to you and oh my _GOD_!” Stiles does his level best to cover his face as he reads through all the messages. “Holy shit how fucking high _was_ I?” he asks incredulously.

Derek snorts, “Hella.”

Stiles looks up, his eyes widening manically, “Oh my _god_ you’re using memes and other assorted internet jokes now! I am so proud of you!” and then he dramatically wipes a nonexistent tear from his face.

Derek steps closer, watching as Stiles turns back down to his phone to scroll through more inane messages. He watches the smooth skin of Stiles’ nose, the dark smattering of moles decorating his body, and the long, delicate fan of eyelashes dusting the human’s cheekbones.

“Wow, first of all how dare I,” Stiles looks up distractedly. “Second of all- ”

Stiles can barely breathe as he realizes just how close Derek is. Close enough to feel the power emanating from him, yet just far enough away to barely feel the heat rising off of the werewolf’s body. Then he looks into Derek’s eyes, surprised by the raw, undisguised warmth bleeding out of them.

Derek reaches down to gently take the phone from Stiles’ grip, closing his fingers carefully around the human’s. Stiles’ looks down at their joined hands, and then looks back upwards when he hears Derek step closer.

“Derek?” he asks uncertainly.

“ _Fuck_ I’ve missed you,” Derek breathes harshly. And then they’re kissing.

Derek kisses like he does everything in life, with single-minded intensity and all the contained ferocity of a wild wolf on a hunt. Stiles squeaks – momentarily surprised – and then relaxes into the kiss, wrapping his arms around the alpha’s broad shoulders in an attempt to not melt into a puddle of quivering goo on the ground. Derek curls his right hand possessively around the small of Stiles’ back, and brings his left up to firmly tilt the human’s head back to get a better angle, their mouths slotting together perfectly. Stiles groans deep in his throat as Derek slips his tongue into his mouth, all heat and warmth and a crackling energy sparking between them.

Derek listens to every sound Stiles makes, savouring the gasps and sweet whines, and practically purrs at the feel of Stiles in his arms. The musk of the younger man sits heavy and close in his nose, and the feel of Stiles’ groin pressing hotly against his, the fabric rubbing deliciously.

They only break apart at a raucous round of enthusiastic applause from the entire pack, including howls from the wolves and catcalls from the humans. Stiles bursts into embarrassed giggles, his cheeks flushing happily as he gently combs his fingers through the soft hair at the nape of Derek’s neck.

“So,” Derek trails off.

“So,” Stiles grins.

“Go on a date with me?”

“Wha- really?”

“Well I’m certainly not asking your _twin_ out on a date,” Derek rolls his eyes fondly. ”So yes. I am asking _you_ out.”

Stiles flushes happily, “Well if you _insist_.”

Derek’s eyes soften, “I do insist.”

_Well alright then._


End file.
